A Different Kind of Madness
by LadyWallace
Summary: It's his duty as a prince of Erebor to marry well, which means his bride will be chosen for him. But when Thorin meets his intended, he finds that maybe their match won't be so bad after all. However, his grandfather's continuing sickness makes him wonder whether he can devote any time to his own happiness now after all. Thorin/OC
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Well, I think I'm finally ready to start posting this story! it's one I've been thinking about for a while. I really hope everyone likes it. I know OC romances aren't always everyone's thing, but I promise to keep this as close to cannon as possible.**

**And I'm going to be honest here, I am no Tolkien Scholar. I do love the books and movies, but the details here aren't going to be perfect, just a warning. I write fanfics for fun and I don't have time to go into a ton of research for them, so if that's going to bother you, don't read. There's no King Hroth or Princess Solveig from the Iron Hills, I just made them up specifically for this story. **

**As for the rest of it, Thorin is about the human equivalent of 21-22 in this story. It's set before the fall of Erebor and apart from being a romance is also a family story. I'm going to be exploring Thorin's relationship with his father and grandfather and Thror's impending madness. I always kind of thought that maybe Thorin had a better relationship with his grandfather than with his father and that's kind of how I am portraying it in this story. Since there's not much known about Thrain and Thror's characters, I'm really just guessing here, but I hope you all like it anyhow. It's been a long time since I've written an OC romance or any kind of romance for that matter, so let me know how I do :) **

**And now that that's over, on to the story!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters apart from Hroth and Solveig, they belong to Tolkien and I just borrow them from time to time**

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A Different Kind of Madness

A Hobbit Fanfic

_Chapter One_

Thorin sighed deeply as he wiped the sweat from his brow onto his sleeve. He let his sword point rest against the ground for a minute as he regained his breath. He wished he could keep this up for hours, work out all his frustration and growing anxiety and not have to worry about anything else. He had all too much to worry about these days, it seemed, and it was beginning to wear on him. Especially with his father's latest news.

"Are you finally done?" Dwalin panted, sinking down on a bench at one side of the training court. Thorin looked over at his friend and offered a smile, raising his sword and pointing it at the taller dwarf.

"What, can't keep up with me, Dwalin? You're getting soft. Father's not going to allow you to be my training partner anymore if you can't even outlast me."

Dwalin glowered at him, wiping his face with a cloth before throwing it at Thorin. "I can outlast you any day, my prince. It's just that you seem to be quite determined to run yourself into the ground. You know it's not going to make any difference."

Thorin sobered again, and went to sit next to his best friend, reaching for the bucket of cold water to take a drink from the ladle before offering it to Dwalin. "I'm aware of that, Dwalin. But it keeps my mind from things that I would rather not think about."

"It might not be that bad, Thorin," Dwalin said, jostling his shoulder with a grin. "I've heard the princess is a great beauty. She'll have that, if nothing else."

Thorin turned to him with a serious glare. "You know that's not what I'm worried about. Not that I _want_ to marry—not by force, anyway. I want to find a girl of my choosing and marry when I'm ready. Not now for political reasons. Whether she's beautiful or not, I don't care to marry Princess Solveig, and I won't if I can at all help it. Who knows if she has already set her sights on someone else? Then our marriage would be of convenience and not love and never could be, and I would never get the chance to find someone I cared for."

"You do raise a good argument," Dwalin said with a smile. "Have you discussed this with your father?"

"I haven't stopped since he announced the proposal!" Thorin groaned. "But you know how much good _that_ does."

The last few weeks had been a hectic time of activity in Erebor, for the mountain kingdom was being readied for a contingent of dwarves from the Iron Hills. Thorin's father, Thrain, and King Hroth of the Iron Hills had been talking about a marriage to strengthen the alliance between their two kingdoms, and who better, it appeared, to do that, than their children, Prince Thorin and Princess Solveig? Yes, Thorin was quite aware of the way of things. He had known that eventually he would be faced with that problem, especially since entering the traditional year of manhood this last birthday, but it had still seemed something in the future, and nothing he would have to worry about for a long time.

But then came the problems with his grandfather, Thror. It had long been expected, and Thorin will admit that he had probably seen it before many of the others, even his own father, but it became undeniable that King Thror was slowly succumbing to the gold sickness. It had not yet consumed him completely, and for the most part he was fine, but on the days he spent too much time with his treasure, these strange bouts of madness would come over him: jealousy, even toward his own loved ones, sometimes anger and lashing out, and it was seen to be inevitable that eventually he would be consumed by the madness completely, and would no longer be able to rule Erebor as it needed to be ruled. Thrain would take the throne, yes, but he thought it prudent that Thorin ready himself for any unforeseen events, and in the uncertain times they lived in, Thorin knew it wasn't just idle precautions that drove his father to the decision. But that was his main problem with the entire situation.

He loved his grandfather dearly. In many ways, he had been more a father to Thorin, and Frerin and Dis than Thrain had. Thorin remembered many days in his youth when he would sit on his grandfather's knee and listen to the stories he would tell; so many wonderful tales that he had never wanted them to stop. And he had been the one to present Thorin with his first sword on his tenth birthday, and showed him how to use it. In recent years, he had been the one Thorin went to with his questions and when he sought advice, and he didn't want to think of their relationship ending. He hadn't told anyone about how badly his grandfather's impending madness was affecting him. Dwalin and Frerin probably knew more than anyone, and Dis, being so young, knew only that Grandfather was sick sometimes, but Thorin didn't want them to have to bear this burden too. He needed to protect his siblings, and that was just another thing that would be made more difficult if he were expected to marry and produce children of his own. Since his mother was dead, and his father was busy with the business of the kingdom, he looked after his brother and sister for the most part. And if he had children of his own, how would he be able to do that to the best of his ability?

But there was no reason to dwell on it anymore now. It wasn't set in stone that he would marry Princess Solveig, and certainly not during the time they were to visit—his father couldn't be that desperate. At the most, he would be forced into a betrothal, but he thought that he might be able to cope with that if pressed. A betrothal was not, after all, totally binding.

He was broken from his thoughts as he heard footsteps running onto the training ground and in another moment, he saw Dis run up, her skirts in a shambles as usual, and her dark hair everywhere. He couldn't help but smile and stood up to meet her, grabbing her as she ran to him and spun her around as she shrieked and giggled.

"Put me down!" she cried and he set her down on the bench so she was at eye level, and she grabbed his twin braids, yanking on them fondly.

"What are you doing out here, you little rascal?" he asked with false menace as she giggled. "I thought Frerin was with you."

"He told me to come tell you and Dwalin that it's time for supper," she said, yanking his braids again and using one to tickle his nose with.

"Oh, he did?" Dwalin asked, standing up and launching a swift tickle attack to the back of Dis' neck, making her scream and press closer to her brother. Thorin smiled, never able to be sad or angry around his little sister.

"We best go get cleaned up then," he said. "Thank you, wee one."

"I'll give you a piggy-back ride," Dwalin told her and Dis shouted in delight and leapt onto his back, kicking her heels into Dwalin's ribs.

"Giddyup!" she squealed, as he charged off inside. Thorin grinned, watching them and bent to pick up his sword, sheathing it at his side.

He knew Dwalin would get Dis back to Frerin so he took a slight detour once he got back inside and went to his grandfather's rooms. He was surprised to find Thror wandering the halls, looking lost, and Thorin went to him, a bit wary. Sometimes, if he was caught in the throws of the gold sickness, his grandfather could become violent, though he hadn't yet hit Thorin. He seemed to be one of the only people left who could calm him during one of his fits.

"Grandfather?" he asked softly, reaching out a tentative hand to touch Thror's elbow.

The old dwarf started, looking up with clearing eyes. "Ah, Thorin. I—I seem to have gotten lost. I can't remember what I was doing." He shook his head and offered a small smile. "Hazards of getting old, my lad."

Thorin forced himself to smile back, but was afraid it didn't reach his eyes. He tucked his grandfather's hand into the crook of his elbow and led him off down the hall. "It's almost suppertime, Grandfather, I was just going to get cleaned up after my practice."

"And how is your swordsmanship improving, my lad?" Thror asked.

Thorin smiled. "I think I might come to prefer it to the axe after all, Grandfather."

Thror smiled and chuckled. "Well, it is a fine princely weapon to be sure, if not quite as traditional. I don't know if your father would approve completely, but he is one for the details."

"Do you know much about King Hroth?" Thorin asked suddenly, unable to help the subject of tomorrow's visitors encroaching upon his mind. "I can't recall ever meeting him."

"Oh, you wouldn't, lad, the last time he came to our halls was when you were a wee babe. He is a good dwarf, and all that entails. And I hear his daughter is a beauty," he winked.

Thorin sighed. "That is what people keep telling me."

"You know, Thorin, your father had the same misconceptions before meeting your mother, and he ended up loving her more than I personally thought him capable of!" he sighed with a long lost look in his eye. "He has not been the same since she died, your father."

"No," Thorin said, his voice suddenly tight. His mother had died soon after Dis was born. It had been a hard birth and she lost much blood and finally succumbed to a fever a few days later. Thorin knew his father wasn't the same afterward. He had hardly spared a fatherly word for his children and would have almost nothing to do with Dis at all, so Thorin had taken in upon himself to look after her.

They had reached his door by then, and he turned to his grandfather with a kind smile. "Can you find your way to the dining hall, Grandfather? I need to wash up, otherwise no one will want me at the dinner table."

"I think I can manage it," Thror said with a twinkle in his eye that Thorin was extremely glad to see. "But a word of advice, lad, if you meet Princess Solveig looking like that, she won't be able to resist you! The lasses love a man fresh off the field of battle."

Thorin laughed genuinely then, shaking his head. "You really are determined to get me in trouble, aren't you? I'll see you at supper, Grandfather." He turned and entered his room where the servants had already readied a bath for him. He stripped out of his clothes and got in the tub, washing quickly before getting out and brushing his hair vigorously, knowing it wouldn't dry in time.

He was just dragging on a clean pair of trousers, when the door opened and he turned to see Frerin walking in, already dressed for supper, with a grin on his face as he watched his older brother hopping precariously with one leg in his trousers.

"Still not ready yet, brother? I hope this doesn't happen tomorrow as well, what with our important guests!"

Thorin growled and threw his wet towel at Frerin as he tied his trousers securely and grabbed his shirt off the end of his bed where the servants had laid it. "Stop reminding me about it. I just lost track of time in the lists."

"Trying to beat all thoughts of your impending doom out of your head at the mercy of poor Dwalin?" Frerin asked, lounging against the bedpost and ignoring his brother's snarl. "I noticed he had acquired quite a few bruises."

Thorin pulled on his tunic finally and reached for his belt before he turned back to Frerin. "Grandfather lost his way again," he said quietly.

Frerin stood up straighter, a sad look coming over his face. "Oh."

Thorin meticulously did the clasp of the belt so that he wouldn't have to look Frerin in the eye. "It's happening more and more often, Frer."

"I know," his younger brother said, scuffing his boot against the stone floor. "But everyone says there's nothing that can be done about it. It's not the kind of thing a potion will fix."

"We can get rid of the damn gold," Thorin said firmly, jerking one boot onto his foot. "It's no good, none of it. I swear, when I become king, the first thing I will do is throw it all away, or lock it somewhere deep in the earth where no one will ever find it again."

Frerin stepped forward and put a firm hand on his brother's shoulder. "I know, Thorin. But you know that will never happen."

"I know," Thorin spat and stood up with a sigh, putting an arm around Frerin's shoulders. "Come on then, let's go have supper."

They ate in the casual dining hall, just the royal family and some of their closest relations and advisors. Dwalin, and his brother Balin were there as well as Gloin and his family and Oin. Thorin felt a bout of longing, knowing that the next day they would in the grand dinning hall with dwarves he didn't know who would all be judging him to see if he was good enough for their princess, and even worse, he would be forced to fraternize, even _flirt_ with said princess in front of everyone. He took his seat to the left of his grandfather and Frerin next to him. A servant immediately came to pour his drink.

As his plate was filled, he looked across the table, feeling his father's gaze on him.

"Have you prepared properly for tomorrow, Thorin?" Thrain asked as he picked up his knife and fork.

Thorin nodded, wishing there was some other topic of conversation, but knowing that was too much to wish for. "Yes, Father."

"You've learned all the proper protocol? Have gone over the list of proceedings?"

"Yes, Father," Thorin said again, cutting a little too vigorously into his meat.

"You have an appointment with the tailor in the morning to make sure your new outfit fits properly," Thrain continued, making Thorin wish he could hit his head against the table. "King Hroth and his convoy will be here by noon tomorrow, and you will need to be there to greet them; however the Princess Solveig will not be presented until that evening."

Thorin buried his snarl in his goblet. _Presented;_ like she was a gift. He began to feel just as sorry for the princess as he did for himself. He felt Frerin's boot knock against his in support as he saw his older brother tense with anger.

"I'll do what I have to, Father," Thorin finally said.

Thrain have him a long look before going back to his meal. "It is what's best for the kingdom, Thorin. I know you understand that."

"Of course," Thorin said, but had nothing more he could say without letting slip something he would regret. They finished supper in near silence and Thorin left right afterward to retire for the night. Not wanting to be around anyone anymore.

He did make sure Dis got to her room and gave her a kiss, regretting leaving her without a story as he usually read to her, but the motherly dwarf maid who looked after her took her promptly in charge.

Thorin retired to his room and stripped out of his formal clothing into his nightclothes and flung himself onto his bed. He grabbed a pillow and buried his face in it, muffling his groan. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's chapter two! I'm sorry if it's a little slow to start off, but I wanted to make sure to build up the story a little bit so it will make more sense later to the plot. It will pick up in the next couple chapters though, promise. I hope everyone enjoys this one :)**

Chapter Two

Thorin was woken by his servant at the crack of dawn. There was hardly time to wake up and have a speedy breakfast before he was forced to the meeting with the royal tailor and fitted into his new outfit for the occasion. It was heavy and gaudy and Thorin winced at the thought of someone attacking him in it. He would have no chance of survival, surely. He usually wore simply cut, embroidered tunics over practical wool shirts. Things that were cut finely enough to show his princely status, but not so ridiculous that he could not fight or work in the forges in. If occasion called for it, he might add a furred coat, but this was just ridiculous, and he said as much in a few choice words, to the tailors as they pulled and prodded him into place, forcing him into the monstrosity that had too many layers to count. It consisted of a dark blue silk shirt that hugged his arms so that it was hard for him to lift them without fearing he would rip a seam. He hated this the most, thinking it looked more elven than dwarfish. This was the fashion now? On top of that was an elbow length black velvet tunic that was so heavy with embroidery that it weighed thrice as much as his methreal coat, which he went to battle in. But that wasn't the end of it either. On top of the tunic he was forced into a coat with fur trim and on top of _that_ a cloak, also of velvet, with a dark red silk lining that made his knees quake to keep the weight up. As for adornments, they had forged a new pair of silver bracers for him and also presented him with a stiff pair of leather boots that had ridiculously shiny silver toes. All in all, he felt like a walking wardrobe, and that wasn't even considering what they were probably planning to do to his hair.

"Magnificent!" the tailor said, clasping his hands, as Thorin stood straight in the center of his room, his eye twitching and his fists clenching, trying to fight the urge to punch something, though wasn't entirely sure he could with this getup. "You look every inch the dwarf prince, your majesty!"

"If that's indeed the case, then I wish to Mahal I had not been born to royalty," Thorin growled under his breath, and the servants pretended to ignore him even though he was quite aware they had heard. They finally released him from the horrible outfit, and when he felt he could breathe again, he slipped off before anyone could tell him another thing he needed to do, to get some time alone before he would have to dress in the ridiculous thing to meet everyone.

He found his way to the library where he saw Frerin reading with Dis. She was sitting in his lap and he was helping her figure out the words she couldn't quite wrap her tongue around. Frerin smiled up at Thorin as he closed the door behind him and Thorin sighed and sank into the chair opposite his siblings.

"I am going to be so glad when this is all over, Frer," he said, rubbing his hand over his face tiredly.

"I know," Frerin said kindly. "Don't worry, all these fancy ceremonies will only last for a few days. Until the wedding."

"Oh, you are such a help to me, brother," Thorin told him sarcastically. "There won't be a wedding if I can help it. Not for a good long while anyway. I have far too many things left to do in my life to have a wife and children. What if war comes and I have to lead the army? I cannot do so with a clear conscience if I am to leave a widow behind should something happen to me."

"Father did it," Frerin said quietly.

"I am not Father," Thorin replied firmly and there was silence for a long time, until Dis broke it.

"Frer, what is this word?"

Thorin left them to their reading again. He only had three hours before noon, and he didn't really know how to spend them. He wanted nothing more than to go to the practice room and take his sword to something, but he couldn't afford to get sweaty now. It would take him an hour to get dressed—if he was lucky. It would likely take more than that if he wasn't.

Instead, he found himself wandering toward his grandfather's chambers, not his sleeping room, but his treasure room, where he sadly spent more time than in his bed of late. He didn't like going there, but he felt compelled by some odd pull. Vaguely, he wondered if this was some preliminary effect of gold sickness. He knew it ran in the blood of their family, and his greatest fear was that it wouldn't stop at his grandfather.

But no, his desire to go there was more connected to wanting to see his grandfather, to seek what advice he had to give him. It was what he had done since he was old enough to walk, and he didn't think it would stop any time soon. He only hoped it would have no reason to.

He didn't knock, but pushed the big doors open with a loud creak of the wood. Torches lit the room and shone off the piles of gold, making the entire chamber glow with a warm light. It looked inviting, enchanting even, but all Thorin saw was folly, and it made him sick to his stomach.

He found Thror in the middle of it, gazing at a jeweled goblet with a look of pure joy on his face. But his eyes held none of the familiar sparkle Thorin loved to see that was becoming all the more rare these days. They were manic, crazed, and it hurt Thorin even more. He turned to go, but he accidently kicked over a plate and the sound echoed through the hall, causing Thror to turn around, anger and suspicion in his eyes. Thorin stepped forward instinctively and held his hands up.

"Grandfather, it's just me," he said gently, but there was no recognition in Thror's eyes. He stormed forward in anger.

"What are you doing in here? Get out! This is my gold! You can't take it from me!"

"Grandfather, you know I don't want it!" Thorin protested, then bit back a gasp as Thror grabbed him by the front of his tunic and slammed him back against a pillar, hard enough to make Thorin wince. He gently put his hands over Thror's and stared into his eyes, fear coming over him more and more as he saw no recognition there.

"Grandfather, it's me!" he pleaded, and suddenly, Thror's eyes began to clear and his anger was replaced by a confused look that turned into horror. He let go of Thorin and stepped back, his hands shaking.

"Thorin, lad, I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me," he said, his voice hushed.

"It's all right," Thorin assured him quickly, readjusting his tunic and offering a smile. "No harm done. I…I just wanted to come see if you were okay."

"I'm fine, Thorin," Thror said, but Thorin knew even he didn't believe it.

He left to go back to his chambers and subject himself to the torment of the dressers again. And they were waiting for him too. Once they finished getting him into his clothes, they wound his hair in such braids as he never knew were possible. He was only glad he had not yet begun to grow his beard out long, or they would have had such pleasure in tearing that out by its roots too.

Frerin met him on his way to the throne room. He was dressed also in new clothing, but not nearly as gaudy as Thorin's. Frerin laughed as he saw his brother's outfit, much to Thorin's chagrin.

"Just wait until father decides to marry you off," he snarled and watched in annoyance as Frerin turned away to hide the fact that he was still laughing.

The ceremony wasn't long, thankfully. It was simply King Hroth coming into the hall, greeting Thror, and Thrain, and Thrain presenting Thorin to him. Thorin didn't even have to say anything apart from a short welcome, and then he was allowed to retire until supper when his role in the proceedings would be more sought after.

Where he would have to meet the princess.

As soon as he was freed from his clothing a second time that day (unfortunately, it was not the last he would see of that horrid outfit) he grabbed his sword and went straight to the lists. He didn't even bother grabbing Dwalin this time, too angry to fight with his friend in fear of accidently hurting him.

After tearing his hair out of its elaborate state and into a simple plait at the back of his neck, he took his practice sword and slammed away at the posts there in the practice court for fake enemies until his arms were burning and sweat poured down him, yet still he didn't stop.

He had not once forgotten the confrontation with his grandfather that morning. He knew it was not something he would forget for a long time. That was the longest Thror had not recognized him during one of his fits. And he had never attacked Thorin physically. It just made him realize, all the more, how stupid this whole wedding thing was right now. Why now of all times? What if King Hroth found out about his grandfather's condition? Would it make him more willing to marry his daughter off to Thorin, thinking she would be that much closer to being queen? Or would it make him reconsider entirely, upon the knowledge that there was madness in the family? Thorin finally stopped, panting heavily and slumped against the post he had been hacking at, pressing his forehead against it. He decided it was probably best to stop before he hurt himself.

He tried to be discreet heading back into the palace and went through the servant's quarters. With all the guests hanging around, he was afraid they might take offense at seeing the prince of Erebor in a sweat covered shirt and trousers with his hair far less than the perfect, painful, style it had been in earlier.

He was startled slightly as he came around a corner and saw a young maid sitting in a window niche with a book in her lap. Thorin stopped and stared blankly at her a moment, unsure of what to say, as she looked up and smiled slightly at him.

"Sorry, I didn't know if I was supposed to be here or not. I was just looking for a quiet place to read while I had a few minutes to spare."

She was extremely pretty, Thorin thought with some regret. She had light grey eyes and auburn hair that fell in curls around her shoulders. He figured she must be one of the maids who had come with the contingent from the Iron Hills; perhaps even a ladies' maid to Princess Solveig, he thought, seeing her somewhat more expensive attire. She certainly must not have recognized him even if she had seen him earlier. He had to admit he looked quite different now in his filthy shirt, the laces half undone to expose his upper chest and the sleeves rolled to the elbows. He watched her rake a pleased eye over the length of him and he smiled slightly as he thought of what his grandfather had told him the day before about lasses liking a man off the field. It was actually rather liberating that she did not know he was Prince Thorin. He never had that luxury and he certainly wasn't going to let on now. He bowed to her slightly.

"I apologize, miss, I'm just heading back to clean up. I too, was seeking privacy."

"Well, then we shall part ways and allow each other a quiet moment," she said with a smile that made his heart do a strange flip. "I will leave you on your way."

"And I will leave you to your reading," Thorin told her with another gallant bow.

"I wouldn't mind meeting again under different circumstances though," she told him as he walked off.

"Nor would I," he said with one last smile but instantly squashed those thoughts away. He had no right giving that girl hope. Perhaps it wasn't a good thing he hadn't announced himself to her. But he knew the repercussions he would get from his father if Thrain heard rumors spread by a ladies' maid that Prince Thorin was gallivanting around the city in a disarray and wooing the serving girls when he was supposed to be paying attention to the princess. No, that would not do at all.

No. Thorin couldn't allow himself to think of the lovely dwarf maid again. Tonight he would meet Princess Solveig and most likely set off on a path to forego all freedom he could have ever had had things been different, and he not a prince.

He somehow made it back to his rooms before the servants and indulged in a private, steaming bath, relaxing as best he could before everything turned to bustling and ceremony that night.

True to form, the entourage of servants with his ridiculous outfit came just as he was trying to relax after his bath, and they instantly began forcing him into the princely garb once again. This time they were even less kind when they did his hair, seeming to want to punish him for undoing their handiwork earlier. He growled curses at them as they all but made his eyes bug out of his head with the tightness of the braids, but they graciously ignored him, used to his typical protests by now.

He was forced to sit quietly until dinnertime for there was nothing more he could do in the weight he was wearing and he tried to focus on a book, but his mind was elsewhere. Finally the bell was wrung and he got up and began to make his way to the dinning hall.

Dwalin and Frerin met him on the way, and he was instantly glad of their support. Frerin was wearing something less horrible than Thorin's outfit, but still ridiculous, and he was envious to the fact that Dwalin was wearing something more akin to typical dwarven attire, his hair plaited normally, and his twin axes sheathed across his back. They all stopped in the anteroom as Thorin took a deep breath, knowing that as soon as he walked through the door, he would probably never be able to go back to his old life again. The thought was incredibly sobering, and he almost quelled at the idea, wanting nothing more than to turn tail and run. But then Dwalin's hand was on his shoulder, steadying him.

"You'll be fine, Thorin," he said. "Just give me the signal if things get too much. I'll think of something to end the evening."

Frerin grinned and reached up to yank one of Thorin's braids fondly. "Yes, we'll be right there for you the whole time, brother. Don't you worry."

Thorin smiled despite himself, glad he had their support. He clapped them both on the back. "Thank you so much. I suppose we'll have to conduct ourselves in some sort of semblance though. Father would never let us forget if something happened tonight to ruin everything."

"True," Frerin said. "Well, it will never be over if you don't go now, Thorin."

"I know," Thorin said and with one last sigh, he stepped out into the dining hall.

His grandfather and father, and King Hroth were already there, sitting at the high table; Thrain on Thror's right and Hroth on his left. Everyone else rose as Thorin entered, Frerin at his side, and Dwalin respectfully behind them. Thorin wished he would be able to sit next to Dwalin that night, but knew he would not. He walked slowly over to the high table and simply tried to concentrate on not tripping over the incredibly long cloak he was wearing. The last thing he needed was to fall on his face in front of Hroth and his entourage. He and Frerin stopped in front of Thror's place and bowed low in respect before they took their seats, Thorin next to their father and Frerin further down from him, leaving a space for Princess Solveig.

Thror stood up then and everyone in the room quieted down. "People of Erebor, and those of you who have come from the Iron Hills, our guests. I would like to welcome King Hroth to our halls and our table. You are most welcome, my friend."

King Hroth nodded in respect, a small smile on his lips. Thror continued, and Thorin was forced to wipe his sweating palms on his trousers. "Our kingdoms have always been on good terms, but we have been hoping for a long time to strengthen those bonds and it is our wish that that can be done by the union of our own Prince Thorin to King Hroth's daughter, Princess Solveig."

King Hroth stood up now as well. "And now, the princess shall be presented to you all, and it is my sincere hope, as well as King Thror's, that the union between our peoples will one day become reality."

Thrain turned to Thorin and the young dwarf suddenly realized that he was supposed to be there to greet Princess Solveig when she came into the hall. He nearly stumbled to his feet, and if it wasn't for Frerin's quick hand grabbing up his cloak, he would have tripped over it and fallen onto his backside. He tried to fight the flush from his face and shot a quick _thank you_ glance at his brother, before he came around to the front of the table, casting one glance back at his grandfather. Thror gave him a smile, one that Thorin had known for so long, and suddenly, he felt much better about the situation. He knew he could do this. He took a bracing breath and turned to the doors of the hall, ready to greet the princess.

"Without further ado," Hroth said, motioning to the guards at the doors. "May I present the Princess Solveig."

The doors were opened and in she walked, flanked by two ladies' maids. She was dressed just as elaborately as Thorin, in a long green dress with a train that flowed at least five feet behind her. Layered in the skirt and sleeves but leaving bare the creamy skin of her throat and breast. Auber hair half up and half down tumbled in ringlets onto her shoulders and then she looked up and met Thorin's baffled stare with grey eyes that held just as much surprise as his own.

And instantly Thorin was completely lost for words or any thoughts at all for that matter. Because this was the girl he had seen in the servants halls earlier that day. Princess Solveig herself. Now what in Durin's name was he going to do?


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's the next chapter! The story is starting to pick up more in this one, so I hope no one has been too bored with it so far. Just as a note, I hope Thorin isn't coming across as too OOC, but he is younger in this story and it's before Smaug attacked, so he doesn't have all the baggage he has when we originally see him as a character. This is how I pictured a younger Thorin, and I simply hope that people like him. I hope you like Solveig as well, I know OC romances are kind of give or take, but I really do hope she's not coming across as annoying or anything. I hope you'll all let me know if she ever does. **

Chapter Three

The recognition was mutual, as was obvious by Solveig's surprised look as she faltered in her steps only a instant before she recovered herself and finally stopped only a few feet in front of Thorin and fell into a curtsey along with her maids. Thorin stood there, still staring, until he heard a slight cough from behind him, coming from his father and he came back to life, suddenly aware that everyone was waiting for him to greet the princess properly. He stepped forward and reached out for her hand—all too eagerly, it appeared, as the shoulder seem of his too-tight silk shirt gave an audible rip. He winced and his cheeks flushed as he took Solveig's hand in his and bent to brush his lips again it, feeling the softness of her skin.

"Welcome to Erebor, Princess," he said.

As he looked up, he caught sight of her trying to hide a smile, but she just nodded graciously. "Thank you, Prince Thorin."

He released her hand as everyone in the hall applauded and then he remembered he was supposed to escort her to the high table and awkwardly took her hand again, and led her up onto the raised dais, just trying to make sure he didn't trip over his own cloak or step on her skirt. He was infinitely glad when they got to their seats and Princess Solveig was sat between him and Frerin. The servants started setting out dishes and pouring wine into goblets and he sat staring at the table in front of him, wanting to look over at the dwarfmaid on his left but also wanting that to be the last thing he did. He wasn't sure whether he was more mortified with the fact that she had seen him in such a dishevelment earlier that afternoon, or the fact that now he was so different in his ridiculous princely garb that he would prove to be a disappointment.

On the other hand, there was the irony of the entire situation that was both amazing and a little horrifying. Would Princess Solveig think it dishonorable of him to go flirting with dwarves he thought were ladies' maids? Well, if that were the case, she was hardly any less to blame for flirting with him just as readily. The enormity of the realization that this was the girl he had connected with earlier was nearly too much for him to process at the moment. He had been so dreading this moment for weeks, that now that there seemed to maybe be a certain light at the end of the tunnel, he dreaded it all the more for no reason that was clearly apparent to him.

He suddenly realized that food had been put before him while his mind had been going through his inner turmoil and he heard a hushed cough to his left and quickly jerked his head to one side to see Princess Solveig smiling at him sweetly, her lips full and red and, oh, Thorin had to remind himself to breathe lest he pass out.

"I apologize, my lord, but are you planning on eating tonight? It's just that it would look bad for a princess to start eating before her male host, and I am rather hungry."

Thorin stared at her for a few seconds, unable to process anything she had said, and then finally shook himself as he recognized the humor in her voice and a smile flicked across his lips wholly of its own accord. "Of course, I apologize. There's just…much to take in." He grabbed his fork and knife and started to eat, grabbing his tankard to swallow the dark ale gladly. "I will admit I am not terribly good at social events."

"Me either, I hate them," Solveig said in a whisper, giving a very unladylike scrunch of her nose as she started eating as well. Thorin didn't really believe her. She seemed so much more composed than he was, but he appreciated her attempt to make him feel better about his own awkwardness. He found he had to clench his hands around the silverware tighter to keep them from shaking. This was certainly not a very good first impression. But then, this wasn't really his first impression either, was it? His mind going again back to their unconventional meeting in the halls earlier, only made it all worse, and he just wanted to slam his head against the table.

They were silent for a while in the din of noise running through the room. Thorin was utterly grateful for it, though he did find both his father and Hroth sending them glances every once in a while to which he would try and plaster a quick smile to at least look like he was enjoying himself. There was no need to start a war with King Hroth because he was simply socially awkward.

Finally, he was startled by Solveig's voice again. "I thought you were a guard or a warrior earlier," she said quietly.

Thorin grabbed his goblet to try and hide the redness that was spreading over his face. "I really am sorry for that. I was trying to avoid attention by going through the servants' quarters. I didn't mean for anyone to see me."

"No harm done," Solveig said and Thorin turned as he caught the hint of a smile in her voice to see her, indeed smiling, a dimple on one cheek and a mischievous light in her grey eyes that made his stomach roll. "In fact, probably more good than harm. I have a feeling the version of you I was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of earlier was more typical than this." She motioned to his princely garb and this time he did smile, unable to help himself.

"You're right. And it's fair enough, I suppose. I thought you were likely one of Princess Solveig's maids, and not the princess herself."

"If only it were the case on both counts, life would be so much simpler," she replied with a ferocity he whole-heartedly agreed with, a scowl appearing on her face before she smoothed it out and turned around to face him again. "I'm sorry, I probably speak out of turn."

"No, I agree fully," he assured her. "This burden is a lot to deal with for both of us, I'm sure. I know it is for me."

"I think we have more in common then I ever could have hoped," Solveig said with her genuine smile again that Thorin was quickly becoming addicted to. "We shall have to stick together. I look forward to getting to know you, better, Prince Thorin."

"And I you," Thorin said, returning her smile. He happened to look across the hall and saw Dwalin giving him a mischievous grin and a wink. He scowled at his friend, but not too harshly. He turned back to Solveig, and began to think that maybe things weren't going to be so bad after all.

* * *

_There wasn't a lot of chance_ for them to discuss much of anything they wanted to, but by the time supper was over, Thorin and Solveig had become companionable and were eager to continue their discussions at a later date. It seemed to have pleased their fathers in any case, and Thorin found he wasn't entirely dreading the events planned to get him and Solveig into each other's company over the next couple weeks of her stay in Erebor.

Frerin met him on his way back to his room, walking more freely now after already having shed his heavy cloak and slung it over his shoulder so as not to kill himself on it. His younger brother gave him a wink and dug an elbow into his side.

"You lucky, lucky, man," he said teasingly. "I guess the rumors were true, for once. She _is_ a beauty."

"Hush," Thorin growled, but was not about to deny his brother that truth. "I hardly know her."

"Who cares about that with a face like she possesses," Frerin grinned. "Not to mention the rest of her."

"Be respectful," Thorin snapped at him.

Frerin just continued to grin, but he did shut up. "I think she's grand, Thorin. I think you really got the good end of the deal with this one, which is more than can be said for many a prince."

"We're not married yet, nor are we even promised to each other," Thorin reminded him somewhat harshly. "Nothing is certain now. I hardly know Princess Solveig at all." But what he did know of her, he found he liked very much. He just wasn't entirely certain that was a good thing or not. "Even if we do end up to eventually have feelings for each other, I still think a marriage now is the least of our worries." He hadn't mentioned the scene with his grandfather earlier to anyone. Two times in as many days now, when before it had been months in between and then weeks. Now it was days, or less, between episodes, and Thorin was not ready to say goodbye to his grandfather's sanity yet. Maybe if they hadn't had to plan for this, he could have coaxed Thror and Thrain into having a vacation. Getting away from the treasure halls would do his grandfather a world of good, Thorin was sure.

"You look exhausted," Frerin said sympathetically. "I won't keep you up any longer. You'll need all the energy you have for wooing tomorrow!" He skipped off down the hall as Thorin aimed a boot at his backside, unable to refrain from smiling at his younger brother. He might be annoying but Thorin loved him all the same.

He was extremely glad to be able to retreat to his room, only having his main manservant help him get out of the outfit before he sent him away and sat down by the fireplace in his room with a heavy sigh. Over all, the meeting with Princess Solveig had not been nearly as bad as he had feared, and if he was being honest with himself, nor was she. In fact, even just that night, Thorin had seen in her a friend, someone in the same position and of the same mind about it as he was, and he felt that he really did want to get to know her better. Whether for simply a platonic relationship or more, he didn't really care. He only knew he wanted to know more about the princess.

That night as he slept, his usual worried dreams gave way for once in a long time to those of a much more pleasant nature that involved an auburn haired dwarf maid with teasing eyes.

* * *

_The next morning, Thorin _was told that there was a ride planned for him and Solveig that would end in a picnic lunch. Since it had been planned, they wouldn't have the luxury of going off alone (they probably would not anytime soon unless they officially announced they were courting) but thankfully, the party included only a few of the guard and Dwalin and Frerin as Thorin's personal companions as Solveig also had her two maids who had escorted her to supper the night before. Thorin felt better already knowing that his brother and Dwalin would be there at his back.

He ate a light breakfast in his room and then dressed in one of his normal outfits, thank Mahal, before he headed out to the royal stables to meet with the party.

He found Solveig and her maids and guards already there when he arrived and he couldn't help but notice how fetching she looked in her riding habit that was much more plain than the gown she wore the night before. Her hair was up off her neck in an elaborate bun of braids, which somewhat disappointed him, but her grey eyes still held their mischievous light to them and he smiled back at her and nodded in greeting.

"Good morning, Princess, I hope you slept well your first night here."

"Oh, quite well, my lord. I trust you had a good night's rest as well?"

"Yes," Thorin replied, wishing they could engage in something more than small talk for he was incredibly horrible at it, but there were too many other people around and it was the proper thing to be done.

In another minute Dwalin and Frerin entered the stables with a couple more of Erebor's guards and they all mounted up for their ride. Thorin took the lead with Solveig while Frerin and Dwalin rode behind them with the maids who Thorin noticed Dwalin trying to flirt with with moderate success judging by the giggles ensuing. The servants brought up the rear with the picnic things. It was all more elaborate than Thorin would have liked, but this was how it was going to be, and he hadn't expected anything different. He had only been fortunate that he had someone halfway decent to share the experience with.

"It is a lovely morning, is it not?" he asked conversationally after a while of silence, wondering if he were the one who was supposed to start conversation and figuring that that was most likely the case.

Solveig gave him a smile. "Yes it is. I do enjoy riding, don't you, Prince Thorin? And might I say you have a beautiful mount. What is his name?"

"Torrent," Thorin replied, reaching down to pet the pony's neck fondly. "Thank you, he is very beautiful. I've had him since he was a colt. I've always enjoyed riding myself."

"I usually keep a better pace than this though," Solveig said in a hushed voice. "When I go riding back home. I'd say we should lose our guards and do some real riding, but I don't think they would appreciate that too much, would they?"

Thorin chuckled, once again surprised by this beautiful young woman who held herself with all the grace of a princess, but was really so much more than that. "No, they would not be amused. Perhaps some other time though. I would love to see if you could indeed outride me." _Was that a proper thing to say_? Thorin instantly thought, wondering if he had offended the princess, but she laughed heartily, and not very much like a princess, and nodded in agreement.

"I would very much enjoy that, Prince Thorin."

"Please just call me Thorin?" he begged. "I can't take all this prince and title stuff. I get so tired of it."

"As you wish," she replied. "But only if you promise to call me Solveig. At least when we're not around Father."

"Agreed," Thorin smiled and as they rode on, he began to relax a bit more, becoming even more used to Solveig's presence and able to enjoy it. He cast a quick glance backward at Frerin and Dwalin and saw that while his friend's attention was still on the maids, Frerin was watching him with a sneaky smile that clearly let Thorin know he saw everything. Thorin shot him a glare but turned it into a smile as he faced forward again.

They made it to their picnic spot around midday as planned, and Thorin dismounted quickly to assist Solveig off her horse. He felt her soft but strong hand enter his and couldn't help the arm he had to slip around her waist to make sure she didn't fall. For just a moment her soft figure was pressed against his of hardened muscles and his breath caught in his throat as he reluctantly released her. He reddened slightly as he looked down and saw her smiling with that mischievous light in her grey eyes, and he quickly stepped away, clearing his throat.

"You can set up the blankets under that tree," he instructed the servants who were unloading the picnic baskets and blankets for them to sit on. Thorin felt silly standing there while the servants did all the work, but there was nothing he could do about it. The guards, which made him feel even sillier, spread out to watch around the clearing. As if he didn't already have a sword and the skills to defend himself.

"Here you are, my lord, princess," one of the servants said, bowing as they finished setting up the picnic. Thorin turned to Solveig and offered her his hand. "Shall we?" he asked.

She took his hand and allowed him to lead her over to the blankets where they sat on several cushions that had also been set out. Thorin and Solveig sat on one, while Frerin, Dwalin and Solveig's two maids took the other several feet away. They chatted among each other and ate the ridiculously elaborate food that had been supplied, and Thorin began to feel a little more at ease and comfortable, despite the fact that there were servants at their beck and call to fill drinks and guards to protect them from any unwanted company.

He was just laughing with Solveig at a story Frerin was telling the princess when a flurry of activity started up on one end of the clearing. Thorin's hand imminently went to his sword that sat not far from his knee, years of warrior instinct having trained him so. Frerin and Dwalin reached for their weapons as well, already on their feet, and Thorin cast a quick glance at Solveig as he saw her move. He cocked his eyebrow at her as he watched her draw a wickedly sharp dagger from under her skirts. She shrugged and Thorin turned back to the guards, one of which was approaching him.

"Beric, what is it?" Thorin asked the dwarf.

"Your majesty, a group of marauders has been sighted in the near vicinity. They have been causing trouble this past month for passing travelers and are known for their cruelty. I didn't think you'd want to risk it with the ladies present, Prince Thorin."

"No, you're right," Thorin said. "Let's get everything together and head back to Erebor." He turned around. "Frerin, Dwalin, get the ladies settled, I'll see to Princess Solveig."

Five of the guards came over to them with their horses. "We will ride with you ahead and the servants will pick up here and follow us with the rest," Beric said.

Thorin's instincts rebelled with the thought of leaving his people here while he ran away. "Take the princess, Beric. I will stay with the others."

"My lord…" Beric began, but Thorin cut him off.

"No, it is my duty to protect my people, and I can't do it if I run from every little branch cracking in the forest," Thorin told him with some annoyance. "No arguments, Beric." He turned back to Solveig before the warrior could protest again and found her already on her feet, the dagger still in her hand. "Come, Solveig, it looks like we'll have to have a picnic some other day."

"Well, for the record, this was much more exciting than I thought it would be," she replied with a smile as he bent to cup his hands for her foot as she mounted her pony. "Do be careful, my lord. I would not want you to fall foul of marauders before we even got a chance to know each other."

"I don't know," Thorin replied, trying to hide a smile. "You might find it a blessing. It would be a quick and easy way out of an arraigned betrothal."

"True," Solveig nodded, pretending to contemplate it sincerely. "But I might fall foul of someone even worse than you, and I don't know if I'm ready to take that chance."

"Come, my lady," Beric called, already on his horse.

Thorin turned to Dwalin. "Look after her," he said.

"You know I will," Dwalin replied and urged his pony into movement as the small party made a quick pace back toward Erebor.

Thorin stood with his sword at the ready, watching the surrounding woods for signs of the bandits while the servants picked up the picnic things. It ended up being rather uneventful and he somehow managed to convince them that he could help load the things. Once everything was back on the ponies, he grabbed Torrent's reins, and mounted up himself, still looking around. They were just about to be on their way when something rustled in the trees to their right and Thorin turned just in time to see an arrow wiz past his head. He ducked with a sharp cry, and Torrent startled with a whinny.

"My lord!" one of the guards cried, thundering his pony over to where Thorin sat, trying to calm Torrent, looking at the arrow that had imbedded itself in a tree only inches from where his head had been.

"I'm fine," Thorin said. "Let's leave now."

They galloped off through the woods, their swords across their knees, watching at all angles, but did not encounter any of the marauders again. Thorin was slightly unsettled by the occurrence, but he brushed it off. It was certainly not the first time he had been put into a dangerous position.

All the same, he stopped the guards as they dismounted. "Get more men on those marauders. I don't want them this close to Erebor. Obviously, they can't do much damage here, but I don't want our people hurt if they venture out. We need to do what we can to track them down and bring them to justice."

"Indeed, my lord," said the guard with a nod. "We will do all in our power."

"And please," Thorin added with a wince. "Do not let my father know about my…narrow escape. He has too much to think of now as it is."

The guards gave him small smiles of confidence. "Of course, Prince Thorin," they said.

Thorin left then, to go and make sure nothing had happened to Beric's company on the way back. He almost wished marauders were the only thing he had to worry about right now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's the next chapter, folks, and it's a huge one! I was going to cut it in half but just couldn't figure out where to, so you get a really long chapter instead, I hope you don't mind :) This is a pretty angsty one, as a warning, some things get bad, but I promise more romantic interaction in the coming chapters. Don't worry, this is actually a romance, but I wanted to establish characters and story first :) Hope you enjoy!**

Chapter Four

Supper was not quite as elaborate an affair as the night before, but it was still more formal than Thorin would have liked. Not to mention the fact that both Thrain and King Hroth were concerned about how their children nearly got attacked by marauders on their picnic.

"Perhaps it's best to stick close to Erebor until this mess is cleared up," Thrain said.

Thorin put down his silverware with a sigh. "Father, by rights, I should be the one out there hunting them down. No one will want to follow me as a prince and a leader in battle if all I do is sit here protected by my guards."

"You are important to the well-being of this kingdom, Thorin, and you will do no good for anyone dead!" Thrain said, then turned quickly to Hroth. "I apologize, your majesty. The matter will be finished." He cast a warning glance at Thorin who sighed and turned back to his plate, his hands fisting tightly around his silver wear. He caught Frerin's sympathetic gaze across the table but was startled to feel a soft touch on his arm. He looked over quickly and saw Solveig giving him a warm smile.

"Don't worry, Thorin," she whispered so only he could hear. "Those of us who know will never think you a coward."

"Thank you," he replied. "But it does little to soothe my honor. A warrior must fight as he is expected to, and the fact that he is a prince should not come into the matter."

It was a mostly silent supper and Thorin felt inclined to retire early, though made sure to apologize to Solveig and her father before he left.

"Perhaps tomorrow, you can show the princess around Erebor, Thorin," Thror said with a smile to his grandson and an almost imperceptible wink. "It will be safe, and twice as awe-inspiring as the forest."

Thorin smiled genuinely, glancing over at Solveig. "If Princess Solveig would like that, then I would be more than happy to oblige her."

"I would love it," Solveig said with a fond smile. "Sleep well, Prince Thorin."

"You too," Thorin replied, then remembered to kiss her hand before he left. He went back to his rooms, but on the way he was accosted by Dis who had been bathed and dressed in her nightclothes. She cried out happily as she saw Thorin and rushed into his arms as he bent to pick her up.

"Thorin! I was just coming to say goodnight to you!" Her nursemaid came puffing around the corner and smiled as she saw her charge in the arms of her big brother. Thorin smiled at her.

"I'll take care of her, Brenna, you can take the night off."

"Thank you, my lord," the dwarrowdame said with another smile and a curtsey and went off down the hall. Thorin adjusted Dis on his hip and carried her into her room, laughing as he tossed her onto the bed while she shrieked and asked him to do it again. He hushed her and sat on the bed.

"No, Dis, you have to sleep now. How about I read you a story?"

"Yes!" she cried. "But first, I want to hear about the princess. I only got to meet her once and I think she's very beautiful. Are you going to get married?"

Thorin found it impossible to get angry at his little sister, despite the topic she had chosen. He gave her a small smile. "I don't know, Dis."

"Well, I like her, she's looks nice!" Dis insisted, crawling over to sit on Thorin's lap, facing him, so she could look up into his face. "So tell me 'bout the picnic!"

Thorin smiled and related in the best detail he could think of about the picnic, embellishing it for Dis' sake, and making it seem all the more grand. He had turned her around and was busy brushing her tangled mess of hair and plaiting it back so it might be in some semblance in the morning for Brenna to take care of. Dis was yawning by the time he had finished telling her about his day, his soothing ministrations to her hair making her drowsy. He finally finished and she was cuddled up against his chest, her eyes half closed and he shifted her slightly to lay her against the pillows of the bed, pulling down the warm blanket before he tucked her in.

"There you go, little princess," he said with a fond smile and leaned over to kiss her on the forehead. "Sleep well. Sometime I will have to take you to play with Princess Solveig. I think she would love to get to know you better."

Dis smiled happily, then yawned before she said, "Thorin, was mum pretty and nice like Princes Solveig?"

Thorin's heart clenched in his chest as he tried to hold the smile on his face. He reached out to stroke Dis' hair. "She was, sweetheart. She was beautiful and kind, and she would have loved you so much." His voice cracked slightly and he knew he needed to leave before he cried in front of his baby sister. Dis seemed appeased by that.

"I know I didn't know mum, Thorin, but I miss her," she whispered.

"I do too," Thorin whispered back as he stood to leave, tucking the blankets tighter as he got up from the bed. "Goodnight, Dis."

"Goodnight, Thorin!"

He closed the door quietly behind him as he left and leaned against it for a few seconds, trying to gather himself. It might have been several years now since his mother had died, but it was still so raw and fresh that it hurt as if she had only passed days ago. And now with his grandfather going mad, and his father's continued distancing of himself from his children…how much more was their family going to have to endure?

Thorin sighed deeply and went to his room to go to bed. But that night, it took him a long time to get to sleep, and there was no lovely princess waiting for him in his dreams.

* * *

_The next morning,_ he woke, feeling not much refreshed, but his depression had dimmed and he was rather looking forward to showing Solveig around Erebor. Mostly because he knew it wasn't going to be an excursion that would entail guards following them all over creation. He knew they would likely be assigned chaperons, but no one other than Dwalin, Frerin and likely Solveig's maids—that would make Dwalin happy, and Frer too, judging from his ridiculous grin yesterday. Perhaps he and Solveig would finally have the chance to have a decent conversation.

He dressed again in his normal clothing, and went to the dining hall for breakfast that morning, finding Solveig already there with her ladies. She smiled as he came in, and he sat down at the head of the table, figuring his father would take breakfast in his own chambers if he had not eaten already, and the servant came over to fill his plate and tankard.

"Good morning, Princess," he said with a smile and Solveig's maids giggled behind their hands. Solveig shot them a longsuffering glance before she returned Thorin's smile.

"Good morning, Prince Thorin. Are you going to show me around your city today?"

"Of course, I hope you find it to your liking."

"Yes, especially if you're going to end up staying here permanently," Frerin said as he came into the hall, grinning. Thorin glared over at him.

"Frerin, that is hardly proper," he growled.

Frerin simply shrugged and sat down to Thorin's right as the servants brought him his food as well. "Father is sending Dwalin and I to act as chaperons on your stroll today. I hope you don't mind." He dug in with gusto.

Thorin didn't bother gracing that with an answer, feeling like a child and not the eldest. He wanted to say something about not needing his little brother to act as chaperon, but didn't get the chance because Dwalin strolled in then, and cast a glance over at the maids who tittered and blushed at him. Thorin caught his gaze and shook his head, to which Dwalin offered him an innocent look before he sat down to eat as well.

"So, where will we be off to first?" Dwalin asked.

"Perhaps Solveig has a destination in mind?" I offered, looking over to her.

"I would love to see your forges. I have heard of their grandeur for far too long. I must see them for myself."

Thorin was once again surprised by this young woman. Most princesses and females at that, would want to see only the beautiful halls and places of great majesty, but she wanted to see the working parts of the kingdom, the heart of the mountain, and Thorin liked her all the more for it. He spent as much time as he was allowed in the forges and mines. He had always enjoyed making things; loved the thought of being able to create something with his hands. Something that was once ugly and malformed into a thing of great beauty.

"Then we shall start our tour there," he told Solveig. "Whenever you are ready."

They finished their breakfast and headed off through the mountain, past the living chambers and the throne room and further into the heart of the kingdom.

"I've heard you mine quite a few rare gems," Solveig said as they went along. "Ones that aren't found anywhere else."

"Yes," Thorin said. "We have found many different types of gems, especially the star crystals that we think are akin to the type of stone that the Arkenstone is made of. I will show you that too, once we get back in the throne room. It is beautiful." Beautiful but also dangerous, Thorin knew. It was the symbol of their right to rule, but he had a secret suspicion that it was also helping his grandfather's madness along moreso than just the contents of the treasure room.

They were passing by the treasure hall when Thorin caught wind of a commotion. He stopped the small party and turned to Dwalin and Frerin. "Stay here, I will go and see what is going on," he said.

He ventured forward before his brother and friend could protest and saw the door to the treasure room open, guards standing in the opening, looking unsure of what to do, but they visibly calmed when Thorin came into view, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He knew exactly who was the cause of the commotion.

"What's going on?" he asked the guards, unable to see what was happening in the room but able to hear his grandfather's angry voice clearly enough.

"The king invited King Hroth to view his treasure, but he…" the guard stopped, seeming to find it imprudent to go on. "I think he changed his mind, your majesty."

"Never mind, Nolan, I'll see to things here," he pushed past the guards and hurried through the piles of treasure to find his grandfather yelling at King Hroth, or rather, several guards who were standing in front of the king in case things got violent.

"Get out of my treasure!" he was yelling. "It's mine, you can't have any!"

"My lord," one guard appealed, and Thorin saw it was Beric. "Please, calm down, no one means you any harm. King Hroth is not here to steal from you, your majesty."

"Grandfather," Thorin called, hurrying up and waving the guards and king Hroth backward as he faced Thror. The dwarf hissed at him, not recognizing him. Thorin advanced slowly with his hands held out in a calming gesture. "Grandfather, please. You know he doesn't mean any harm. Calm down, now, and we'll go have an ale in the library."

"Get away!" Thror growled, plastering himself against a pile of gold as if to protect it from Thorin. "Get away now, you thief! You're not getting any of my gold. It's mine, you hear me? Mine!"

"Grandfather, please," Thorin pleaded, taking one swift step forward to grab his grandfather's hands, hoping that the contact would jar him from his fit. But he was only aware of stepping forward once before something slammed into the side of his face and sent him sprawling.

He lay on the floor, his face aching, and he looked up to see Thror looking confusedly between his clenched fist and Thorin, lying on the floor. Thorin shakily got to hands and knees, before Beric was at his side, one of his strong arms around Thorin's chest as he helped him to his feet.

"Prince, Thorin, are you all right?" he asked, digging in his tunic and pulling out a handkerchief. "Your nose, my lord…" he motioned helplessly.

Thorin finally noticed the wetness and took the proffered handkerchief, pressing it against his upper lip, the right side of his face and nose still numb. But he would be lying if he said that was the worst of it.

"Thorin, Father!" Thrain was hurrying up and putting a steadying arm around Thror who still seemed dazed. He cast a quick glance at Thorin as he began to draw his father away. "Are you all right?"

Thorin nodded, unable to say anything. Beric still had an arm under his, keeping him steady. Dwalin was suddenly there too, taking Thorin from him and grabbing his hand with the handkerchief away from his face to see the damage done. Thorin finally found use of his limbs again and jerked away.

"Thorin, are you all right?" Dwalin asked helplessly.

Thorin watched his father lead Thror away, his chest aching too much to speak.

"Thorin?" Dwalin's hand was on his shoulder, gently guiding him away.

Thorin ignored him. "Take Princess Solveig back to the living quarters. We will not be having the tour today. Tell her I had a sudden pressing business." And then he shoved away from Dwalin and hurried off out of the throne room through the back corridors so he would not meet with Solveig and the others on the way.

He found his way back into the own chambers and slammed the door behind him. He finally let out his pent of emotions in a cry of anger or grief—he wasn't entirely sure which. He threw off his coat and rolled up his sleeves, going over to his wash basin and washed the blood shakily from his hands then picked up a cloth and washed his face. Once he had cleaned the blood from himself, he finally turned his eyes up to look in the mirror sitting above the table. A livid bruise was already forming over his right cheekbone. The pain had started now too, the numbness having run its course. Seeing the bruise made a new wave of sadness and pain wash through him and he grabbed his coat and balled it around his fist, slamming it into the mirror so that it cracked and shattered over the table and onto the floor. He dropped the coat among the wreckage, and went over to fall heavily onto the window seat, pressing his forehead against the glass as he closed his eyes, feeling the sob start in his chest and the telltale pinprick behind his eyes. A tear slid down his abused cheek and then another and another, until he was curled into himself with his knees pressed tightly against his chest, sobbing. He hadn't cried like this since his mother had died and in a strange way it felt liberating to let the emotions flow, even though he was broken on the inside.

There was a knock on the door and he flinched at the sound.

"Go away," he called out, his voice obviously tinted with the tears.

The door opened anyway, and Frerin came in, looking worried, and somewhat confused. Thorin was turned toward the window so he couldn't see his face, but Frerin came over to him.

"Thorin, are you all right? Father won't tell me what happened, but Dwalin said…"

Thorin turned around with resignation, and Frerin stopped with a horrified look as he saw the tearstains on Thorin's face accompanied by the darkening bruise across his cheekbone. Certainly, he knew that the hurt itself was superficial, he had given Thorin worse many times before in training, but he also knew that the way it had been dealt and by who made all the difference. A tear slipped unbidden down his own face, and Thorin's heart nearly broke again seeing that look of finality cross Frerin's face that had been so open and innocent only years ago.

"What are we going to do, Thorin?" Frerin asked, and suddenly he was just a dwarfling again, worried, needing his older brother to protect him, to guide him through hard times. "Is he really that far gone?"

Thorin reached out and took hold of his little brother, pulling him onto the window seat next to him and wrapping his arms around him, resting his cheek on the top of his head as he felt Frerin's hot tears slide down his neck. "Not until the day I stop breathing, brother. I swear I will not let Grandfather go mad. He is still there, and as long as he is, then there is still hope. We only need to take better care of him. Something that I should have taken better measures to do."

They sat there for a long while until Thorin finally took a deep sigh and stood up, pulling his brother up with him. "Come, Frerin. I wish to see how Grandfather is."

"He was still distressed when I came to you," Frerin said. "I don't know whether it would be a good idea to see him now." He didn't say it, but his pointed glance at Thorin's face was enough for his older brother to understand his meaning.

"You're right," Thorin said, his heart sinking. He knew his Grandfather, if he remembered what had happened at all, would be feeling horrible right now, and he wanted to make sure he knew that it hadn't been his fault. That Thorin didn't blame him for what had happened. How could he when it had hardly been his fault? He was out of his mind.

"I should go and apologize to Solveig for this morning," Thorin decided, going to his closet and pulling out a fresh shirt and coat.

"I do not think she is angry at all," Frerin assured him with a small smile. "I think she is more worried than anything. But you will find her in the library if you wish to."

Thorin offered him a small smile, then looked over to his mirror, only to remember he had broken it. He shook his head and turned back to Frerin after washing his face again. "There's no blood on my face?"

His younger brother smiled. "No, don't worry. Your face it still as handsome as always."

The joke fell almost painfully flat, but Thorin took it for what it was. He left his chambers and went down the hall to the library.

He was surprised to hear voices there and laughter, and he frowned, wondering who could be there with Solveig, but then he recognized the voice and smiled instead, entering the room to find Solveig sitting on the fur rug in front of the fire with Dis, pouring over a large book. The picture they made was so lovely, Thorin was loath to interrupt it, but they had heard him come in and they turned around to see him standing there. Dis jumped up with a grin and came to throw her arms around him.

"Thorin! Princess Solveig was reading to me." She leaned forward to whisper not so quietly in his ear, "She's just as nice and pretty as you said she was."

Thorin's face reddened as he saw Solveig stifling a laugh and he put Dis back down, following her to sit on the rug as well. He noticed Solveig made no move to stand up, obviously not embarrassed to be found sitting on the floor reading to a dwarfling, and once again, Thorin found himself thinking fondly of her for her attitude. Dis instantly settled in his lap, and he tucked one arm around her and kissed her head.

"I hope you haven't been any trouble for Princess Solveig, Dis," he said.

"Oh she hasn't been any trouble at all," Solveig told him with a broad smile. "We had lunch together and I told Brenna that I would take her to the library while she saw to chores."

"You didn't need to do that," Thorin told her quietly.

"Oh no, I love to," Solveig insisted. "I never had a little sister but I always wanted one. Dis is no trouble at all and I've become quite fond of her!" She smiled and tickled Dis under the chin, making her shriek and shrink back against her brother.

Solveig's eyes traveled to Thorin's face again and her smile faded slightly as she took in the bruise. He met her eyes and swallowed hard, but she quickly renewed her smile and he relaxed as he realized she wasn't going to say anything about it.

"I apologize for leaving you this morning," Thorin told Solveig as Dis started to flip through the book again. "It was not my intention."

Solveig waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry, Thorin, I'm not accusing you of leaving me in the lurch. I know your duties take up a good deal of your time, and I certainly don't expect you to push them aside to make me happy."

"Well, you should," Thorin said before he realized he was saying it. He startled himself and looked over to meet Solveig's eyes, seeing the surprise and admiration in them. They held the gaze for a few seconds, and then Thorin finally looked down and cleared his throat.

"I will take you on the tour tomorrow. Everything should be settled by then." He smiled at her again, and then gently pushed Dis to one side, standing up. "I'm afraid I have a few things to see to before supper. I hope to see you then."

"Of course, and I'll keep Dis with me for a while longer," Solveig promised as Thorin left the library.

He admitted that he had told a lie, and felt a little bad about it, but he wasn't much in the mood for conversing with Solveig just then, even though he recognized the opportunity for what it was, them being for the most part, alone. He was in too dark a place just then, and he was no companion for pleasant talk. Though he had a suspicion that Solveig would be just as willing to hear his pains as she would be his pleasantries, they had still known each other for only a short time.

No, he didn't have business to attend to, instead he went and beat about the dummies on the training field until he was nearly too exhausted to stand.

* * *

_That night, bathed and _properly dressed, Thorin went to the dining hall for supper with some apprehension. He did not know whether his grandfather would be there or not, and he was not entirely looking forward to facing his father and King Hroth with his bruises either. He had ignored propriety for the night and let all his hair out of its regular braids and clasps to hang around his face in a poor attempt to conceal the bruises as best he could. He could have put some paint on his face to cover it, but his pride would not allow that, and he knew it wouldn't have made a difference either way to him or Thror.

But his grandfather was not at supper after all, and he took his father's usual place while Thrain took Thror's at the head of the table. His father only cast a fleeting glance at him, like he had earlier after the scene in the throne room and then turned back to his supper. Dwalin, who was sitting further down the table met Thorin's eyes with a sympathetic look and gave him a slight nod, but they could not speak from where they were.

Solveig was just as beautiful as ever and Thorin felt calmed and happy by her presence. For some reason he had begun to see her as a small sanctuary in his tumultuous life, which was rather ironic, because he had previously thought her to be a good deal the opposite. But she had proved differently, much to his surprise, and he felt that she was, or would soon become, a dear friend.

Supper was quiet that night, and Thorin retired early, promising to renew his offer of a tour of Erebor the next morning, and then he left, unable to bear the thought of spending any more time in anyone's company that night. He stopped by to say goodnight to Dis on his way to his chambers, then dressed in his nightclothes and slumped down in his chair to read, but really only sat with his head in his hands, an exhaustion much deeper than the physical overcoming him.

The knock on his door was so soft, he almost didn't hear it, but when it came again, he stood, frowning, wondering who it was. Frerin or Dwalin would never think of knocking so tentatively, if they did at all. He strode to the door and opened it, expecting a servant.

But it was his grandfather standing there. Thorin started without meaning to, and instantly regretted it, when he saw the look of pain flash over Thror's face. He steadied himself and offered a small smile.

"Grandfather, are you all right? Did you need something?" he asked.

Thror's gaze settled on the bruise on Thorin's face and the dwarf prince felt the need to put a hand over it.

"Can I come in, Thorin?" Thror asked quietly.

"Of course," Thorin replied, stepping away from the door and closing it behind his grandfather as he entered the room tentatively. He stood awkwardly as Thorin turned back toward him. He didn't know what to say, and found himself waiting for his grandfather to speak. Thror was obviously fighting with some inner demons and finally he strode over to Thorin, reaching out to put a hand on his wrist, looking up with pained eyes.

"Thorin, I am…I am so sorry about what happened earlier, I don't…"

"Grandfather, no, there is no need to apologize," Thorin told him quickly, patting his hand. "Please don't worry."

"I never meant to hurt you, Thorin," Thror continued, his voice tight, tears threatening in his eyes. He reached up slowly to take Thorin's face between his hands and Thorin froze at his grandfather's careful touch, his hands shaking. "I never wanted to. I'm so sorry." His thumb slowly smoothed across the bruise and Thorin closed his eyes.

"Grandfather, please, I know you didn't mean it, I don't blame you. It was an accident," Thorin rambled, his own tears threatening again though he fought them.

"I know it's gotten worse, I know, I shouldn't have…oh Mahal." Thror pulled Thorin to him and Thorin went without protest, resting his head against his grandfather's shoulder as the hand smoothed through his hair. The hand that had struck him earlier…_No, stop!_ Thorin told himself as he stiffened involuntarily in his grandfather's grasp. Thror hesitated slightly and Thorin fought to relax again so as not to cause him any more pain. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault he was sick.

Thorin pulled back in a few minutes. "I'm just worried about you, Grandfather. I don't want you to get sicker," Thorin said truthfully.

"I don't either," Thror told him, his voice firmer, more resolute. "That is why I am locking the treasure rooms for the time being. No one will be allowed in, including myself."

"Grandfather…" Thorin began, but Thror cut him off with a shake of his head.

"It is for the best, Thorin, and you know it. I can't be causing you this trouble now. What sort of king would I be if I didn't do what was best for my people, especially when it is in my best interest as well." He cupped Thorin's cheek once more, a forced smile on his face. "I promise I will try everything to get better, Thorin. You need not worry about me. Not now. All you need to worry about is winning that lovely Princess' heart, and you seem to be well on your way to doing that."

Thorin blushed, but smiled. "Yes, Grandfather." Thror bid him good night and he left the room. Thorin watched the door for several seconds before he turned to his bed and slumped down on the edge, lowering his head into his hands once again.

He would love to believe that locking the treasure away would cure his grandfather, but he knew enough of the sickness to realize that was only a small hope in a vast sea of bad things. Because gold sickness was a sickness born of addiction, and those did not simply go away. They could not simply be treated with a tonic and forgotten when all was better. They ate at you and they didn't stop until you went mad, no matter how hard you tired, and ruined everything good and everything you ever loved.

Thorin had decided it was time he stop lying to himself and face the truth of the matter before he grew any false hopes. The episode today was only the beginning, and he knew there was going to be a whole road of heartache before this journey was finished.


	5. Chapter 5

**Here's the next chapter to start your weekend! I hope you are all still enjoying this. This one's a little slower than the last one, but you get to see more of Thorin and Solveig, so I hope you approve. I am hoping to post the next chapter later this weekend! Thanks to everyone who has reviews, faved and followed so far!**

Chapter Five

Thorin woke the next morning and only wished to stay in bed. He had no enjoyment in the thought of his tour with Solveig, even though he really did want to do it with her. It was just that after his confrontation with his grandfather the night before, he felt unfit for pleasant company.

But he could not go back on his word, and he thought that Solveig would probably help to smooth over some of his hurts and concerns and give him something else to think about for a while. He was reluctant, but he got up and dressed anyway.

He had refused to let his servants replace his mirror; he had no wish to until his bruises healed. That side of his face was stiff, and he knew it must look worse than it had the day before, but he didn't care enough to look at it. There wasn't anything he could do anyway.

He plaited his hair back into its normal style and then went to breakfast. Everyone was already there, and he felt some embarrassment with being late, but Solveig smiled pleasantly at him and he couldn't help but return it. After they had finished eating, he turned to her.

"Are you ready to take the tour?" he asked.

"If you wish to give it," Solveig replied and with their party of maids and Dwalin and Frerin, they set off through the mountain.

They made their way down into the heart of the mountain, no interruptions this time, and finally reached the forges. Solveig looked around with a pleased gasp of awe.

"Oh my," she exclaimed. "This is far more grand than I expected."

Thorin couldn't help a grin of pride as he offered his arm to Princess Solveig and led her over to one of the huge forges where three dwarves wearing heavy aprons stood around the anvil and beat out an axe. They looked up and nodded respectfully to Thorin and the princess as they passed then set back to work.

Thorin led Solveig over to a sluice where an older dwarf was working, cleaning off the gems that had been freed from the rock.

"Is this all the finds from this week, Marin?" Thorin asked him.

"Yes, my lord, we have found a new vein of rubies," the dwarf said with a smile, before he bowed slightly to Solveig. He pulled the tray he was washing out of the sluice and displayed several handfuls of deep red, uncut rubies of varying sizes. The biggest was the size of the end of Thorin's thumb, easily a hundred carrots.

"These are beautiful, I've always been fond of rubies," Solveig exclaimed, taking one up and inspecting it in a loupe that Marin provided for her.

"Emeralds would suit you better, or sapphires," Thorin said matter-of-factly, without realizing he had said it out loud. He blushed slightly as Solveig turned to him with amusement, a smile playing over her lips.

"Do you think so?" she asked.

"He is right, my lady," Marin told her, a sparkle in his eyes. "They would go much better with your eye color."

"Well, I suppose I will have to take your word for it," Solveig said with a laugh as she put the ruby back for Marin to finish washing it and slipped her hand into the crook of Thorin's arm again. "Thank you."

Thorin led her over to the vats where they melted down the gold and other precious metals and then he showed her another dwarf who was painstakingly linking the tiny delicate chains together for a mithreal shirt. They had lost their party by then, and Thorin made no move to find them. He was enjoying touring the forges and showing Solveig one of the places he liked to spend time. It was true he usually took his frustrations out on the training grounds, but he did love to come down here sometimes too to work out his anger and troubles. It was good to not always be bent on destruction, but to make things. And for some reason, he never feared the effects of the gold here. Not when it was raw and untried and when he was master over it.

Once they had finished the tour of the forge, Thorin ignored the fact that they had lost Dwalin, Frerin, and the ladies, and made their way to the throne room so he could show Solveig the Arkenstone.

"It's probably very bad of us to leave them behind," she said with a mischievous look in her eye, as he led her down the corridor.

"I'm sure it's not going to cause too much of a scandal," Thorin replied, smiling. "Besides, I think they're quite sweet on your girls; they may not want to be disturbed, wherever they are."

She laughed brightly and Thorin felt his heart leap in joy at the sound. He decided he needed to make her laugh like that as much as possible.

They reached the huge doors to the throne room and Thorin opened them, seeing they would be alone, thankfully, since no guards were standing outside.

"I know you did not get to see the throne room when you came," Thorin told her as she stepped in behind him and looked around in awe at the architectural grandeur of the hall.

"Wonderful!" she exclaimed and Thorin led her to the throne that Thror sat on when he was holding court. Set into it on the high back was a large stone, glowing with an unnatural light. Solveig's breath caught in her throat as she saw it and she bent as close as possible to study the priceless gem.

"It's beautiful," she breathed.

"Yes, it is," Thorin replied in a bland voice he found himself unable to remedy.

She turned to him, a look of confusion on her face. "You do not think so?"

"Oh, on the contrary, I think it is very fine. Too fine. Fine enough to turn one's head if they are not careful," he hardly bothered to keep the bitterness out of his voice. He should have used more discretion, he knew, but with Solveig, he found it easy to say what was on his mind. She never made him uncomfortable. "I just think there are other things, simpler things, in life that are far more precious and lovely." He looked straight at her when he said it without realizing what he was doing and quickly turned away, swallowing hard.

Solveig returned to him and he felt her hand graze his arm slightly. "I admire you for that, Thorin. It is that quality exactly that will make you a good king. A true leader of men."

"I'm flattered you think that," Thorin said.

"I mean it," she said in all sincerity and Thorin finally turned back to look at her. Her grey eyes deep with concern and earnestness. "You're one of the most noble and unselfish young men I've ever met. Few and far between."

Thorin didn't know what to say; he had never been good with praise and compliments. However, coming from Solveig, he actually felt it meant something more than empty flattery.

"I'm sorry, Solveig," he finally managed with a sigh, his hand coming up to rub his eyes tiredly. "I've been going through a few things right now."

He felt her hand slide into his and give him a friendly squeeze. He looked down at their clasped hands and then back up at Solveig as she started speaking again.

"If you ever need someone to talk to, Thorin," she said quietly, "I will listen. You don't have to guard yourself around me."

"Thank you," he whispered, surprised. She smiled up at him kindly and he was about to say something when the door to the throne room opened again and he swiftly released Solveig's hand to turn around, wondering who it was.

"There you are," Dwalin said with a smirk on his face as he strode into the room. "Gave me the slip, eh? Your fathers would have my head if they found out."

Thorin glared at him levelly. "Oh really? The way I saw it, I lost you. It seems you effectively gave me the slip instead. Perhaps Princess Solveig should moderate how much you see her maids in future."

"Point taken," Dwalin admitted with a grin and a slight bow toward Solveig, which she returned with a grin of her own. "In future, we shall have an arraigned signal for wanting time alone."

Thorin rolled his eyes, and ignored Dwalin as he strode out of the throne room again, rejoining the others. Solveig cast him a sly smile as they continued on and he was unable to help a small chuckle.

They finished their tour and then had lunch. Afterwards, Thorin took Dwalin out to the training field and they hammered at each other happily for the better part of an hour. While they sat resting afterward, Dwalin nudged Thorin's foot with his own boot.

"So, have you laid the full princely charms on Princess Solveig yet?" he asked with a smirk.

Thorin flicked a ladleful of water at his friend as he reached for a drink. "I'm not a rake like you, Dwalin, not do I kiss and tell."

Dwalin shrugged. "I know you too well anyway. You have no glow about you as one in love, though I dare say the princess is well on her way to charming even your closed heart."

Thorin sighed and leaned over so that his elbows rested on his knees. "You know that this just isn't the time or top priority right now, Dwalin. Whatever happens between Solveig and I, it's just…I can't fully devote my time to her. Not what she deserves. There's too many other things going on, and with Grandfather getting worse…"

Dwalin's hand descended on his shoulder in a strong grip. "Thorin, I know well enough, trust me, I do. And it's tearing me up to see what you're going through, and I can tell, believe me, I can. Even if you don't say anything, I know you too well not to see it. But another thing I see is that when you are with Solveig, some of that goes away, and I think, dare I say it, that you might possibly be happy with her." He smiled and patted Thorin's knee before he stood up. "Just think on it. Because, for the record, I think she's good for you, and so does your brother." He left the training field before Thorin could protest and left the prince sitting by himself. Thorin sighed and ran his hands over his face, pushing back the sweaty hair.

The worst part about it was that he was pretty sure that Dwalin was one hundred percent correct.

* * *

_The next day the treasure_ room was closed and barred and locked tight. No guards were put there, but it was inaccessible for all intents and purposes. Thorin watched the proceedings blandly and left as soon as they had finished, sharing a glance with Frerin before he did so. He knew well enough that this was not going to change a thing. In fact, he was incredibly frightened that it would only make matters worse.

He needed a distraction, and he had an idea of how to accomplish that. He ran down to the kitchens and gathered what he would need and then went to the solar, which he knew was where Solveig and her maids stayed when they didn't have anything else to do. It had been his mother's and was a light, pretty room, with a cozy atmosphere and though there were many pleasant memories there, Thorin couldn't stand to be there long, and tried not to go there if he could help it. He remembered sitting there at his mother's feet, playing with his toys while she read to him or stitched. He took a deep breath to dispel the memories welling up and clenching around his heart as he knocked on the door.

It was opened in a moment by one of the maids, the one Dwalin had his eye on, who looked surprised to see him, and bit her lip to keep the smile off her face.

"Is Princess Solveig here?" Thorin asked.

"Oh, yes, your majesty," she said, letting out a small giggle as she opened the door and revealed Solveig sitting by the fire with a book on her lap. The maid curtseyed as she looked up. "Prince Thorin, my lady," she said.

"Thank you, Gwen," Solveig said, standing up. "And what brings you here, Prince Thorin?"

Thorin offered her a somewhat self-conscious smile. "I though that since our picnic the other day didn't go as planned, we would have another." He held up a basket for her to see. "I know they will not let us out of the mountain, but there is a fine little niche in the library that would do, if you are interested. And you have not already eaten?" he stumbled awkwardly through the invitation; fully aware of the tittering maids, and wishing they were not there. Solveig smiled fondly at him, sending her girls a sharp glare.

"I would be honored, Prince Thorin," she replied and came out of the solar, closing the door behind her. "I am terribly sorry about them," she said as they went down the hall, her hand in the crook of Thorin's elbow.

"It's all right," Thorin told her. "I just hope they won't tell anyone we have stolen off together."

"Oh the scandal!" Solveig cried melodramatically but finished with obvious pleasure. Thorin smiled and took a quick peek into the library to make sure no one was there before he ushered her in and they headed back to the more unused areas, thick with ancient history tomes. It was a bit dusty, but it was right by a large stained glass window, which shed the light of midday down onto the floor in a rainbow of colors. Solveig helped Thorin lay a blanket on the floor and set out the food and plates and cups. She poured the cider and he dolled out the sandwiches and tarts and soon they were chatting and laughing together, finally having the chance to just be themselves without worrying about anyone else. Thorin watched as Solveig brushed her hair out of her eyes, a few curls having escaped from the elaborate style she was wearing. Instinctively, he reached out and brushed them aside, feeling for the first time, how soft and silky her hair was. She looked up at him, somewhat startled but before he could pull his hand back, she captured it in hers and her expression softened.

"It's always doing that," she said as she slowly let his fingers slide through hers again. "I tell the maids that the simple styles always hold best, but they never listen."

"I like it best down," Thorin said before he could stop himself and then blushed furiously. Solveig laughed and shook her head.

"Watching you, you'd think it was a terrible thing to pay a girl compliments!" she said teasingly. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Thorin."

"I'm sorry I'm so poor at it," he mumbled, grabbing his tankard and hiding his face in it.

"You're not poor at it," Solveig said sincerely. "In fact, I think you're very sweet. Most men like to say things just to impress women, but when you say it, I can tell you really mean it because it just comes out and you don't really realize you're doing it."

He wasn't really sure that was a compliment or not, but he did turn back to her and seeing her smile made him realize that she was not trying to be mean at least. "Well, I'm glad I'm an amusement if nothing else."

"Oh, Thorin," she said with a fond smile and he found himself reaching out again to gently finger a lock of her hair that rested on her shoulder. His hand brushed against her smooth cheek as he did so, and instead of pulling away this time, Solveig leaned closer, into his touch. He met her eyes and saw them curious and there was something else there he couldn't read. Her lips were red and full and he felt the sudden urge to know what they felt like…

He jumped, nearly spilling his drink, when he heard the door to the library open and close and the pattering of footsteps sound in the halls. He sat up straight and had a sudden moment of panic as he wondered what would happen should they be discovered here with no escort.

"Thorin?"

Thorin breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Dis' small figure appear around the corner and he smiled, beckoning to her. She laughed happily and ran to him.

"I didn't know you could have picnics in the library!" Dis exclaimed happily.

"You can have picnics anywhere," Thorin told her fondly, settling her in his lap with an apologetic smile toward Solveig who returned it with a happy grin.

"You should join us, Dis," she said, pulling out some more tarts and offering them to the little girl. "It's good fun!"

They chatted and laughed with Dis until all the food was eaten and Thorin figured it was time to leave lest they be discovered missing. He swore Dis to secrecy, hoping it would work, but figuring she wasn't going to tell anyone important anyway. Frerin wouldn't tell, though he would certainly use the information to tease Thorin mercilessly and that meant Dwalin would find out. He sent her off as he gathered the things and turned back to Solveig with a smile.

"Sorry about that," he replied.

She laughed. "Oh, don't worry, Thorin. I love your sister so much. One of these days we'll get to have a picnic that goes uninterrupted."

Thorin nodded. "You should probably go so no one will see us leave together. That might cause a scandal."

"Can't have that," she replied in mock seriousness. "Thank you for inviting me on this picnic, Prince Thorin. I had a lovely time."

"Thank you for joining me, Princess," he replied and took her hand to press a kiss to it. "Until next time."

She left and Thorin watched her go, smiling fondly. More fondly than usual. He shook his head. Dwalin was right, he was becoming quite smitten with Solveig against his better judgment. He just didn't know whether that was a good thing or not.

* * *

_That night he was walking_ back to his chambers late after spending some time in the library, unable to sleep and wishing for a different scene than his room. He heard a strange sound coming from a nearby corridor and decided to go and investigate, wondering what might be up.

It took him a while to recognize the figure for it was dark, but he finally saw it was Thror, sitting with his back against the door of the treasure room, groaning as if in pain. His knees were drawn up to his chest and he had his hands pressed to the sides of his head while he rocked slightly. Thorin ran to him quickly before he stopped, memories of Thror's last fit still very fresh in his head.

"Grandfather?" he asked softly, approaching with caution. "What are you doing here?"

Thror looked up suddenly at his voice, a haunted look in his eyes.

"I tried, Thorin," he whispered, tears falling down his cheeks. "I tried, but it wouldn't stop. I have to see it, please let me in."

Thorin's heart clenched. He had been right. Closing the treasure room hadn't changed a thing. He bent down and took his grandfather's shoulders in a tight grip. "Come, Grandfather. You should be in bed."

Thror's hands fisted in his tunic pleadingly. "Please, I can't take it anymore! It's the only way to make it stop!"

Thorin didn't know what he was talking about. Didn't know if he wanted to. He just knew he needed to get his grandfather away from the treasure room. He pulled him to his feet, all the while Thror clutched at his clothes and tried to resist, but Thorin pulled him along and finally got to his bedroom and sat him on the side of his bed. He was already in his nightshirt so Thorin simply pushed him back against the pillows and pulled the covers up.

"Just try to sleep, Grandfather," he pleaded gently. Thror seemed to already be half asleep. Perhaps the whole episode had been mostly a nightmare and nothing more. He mumbled something, but seemed settled enough for Thorin to feel secure enough to leave. He sighed heavily and rested a fond hand on his grandfather's forehead before he exited the room.

Just as he was closing the door, Beric came down he hall, and seemed relieved when he saw Thorin.

"I heard something and thought I'd come see if something was wrong," the warrior said, then turned to the closed door. "Is His Majesty all right?"

Thorin started to nod, then reaffirmed with a tired shrug. "I don't know, Beric. Could you maybe set a guard to watch his room tonight?"

"I'll do it myself," the dwarf told him. "You just go and sleep, Prince Thorin."

"If he wakes fetch me or my father," Thorin said then left to his own chambers.

He spent another sleepless night.


	6. Chapter 6

**All right, so this is another very angsty chapter and I'm still not sure whether I am totally happy with it, it's been so long since I wrote romance, so let me know if it's any good. And be prepared for the painful feels. **

Chapter Six

Thorin spent the next few days on eggshells, worried all the time that his grandfather would completely go into a withdrawal but he was fine, and actually seemed to be returning to his normal self again. Thorin began to think, to hope, that his panic on the first night had indeed just been a nightmare, and didn't have anything to do with the gold sickness at all. He knew it was a dangerous thing to hope; that it was all too good to be true, but to be honest with himself, Thorin was tired of worrying about it, and as long as his grandfather seemed to be himself and seemed to be happy and well, he wasn't going to complain.

Apart from that, he had done several more things with Solveig. Thrain and Thror were making plans to hold a feast and dance at the end of the month before King Hroth had planned to go back to the Iron Hills. It was obvious that they expected some promise to have been given of a betrothal by that time, but Thorin was ignoring it. He didn't know what the weeks ahead would bring. He knew that he was rather fond of Solveig, and if it did come to a betrothal, then, well, he supposed it couldn't be the worst thing ever, but he had no idea what would happen in that time, and he was not going to make any promises unduly. Either to Solveig or to himself.

He was relieved to hear the news that the group of bandits that had been terrorizing the surrounding area had seemed to move on, appearing to have exhausted their resources and gotten away before they were caught. So he took that opportunity to take Solveig out for a ride, with just a couple guards from both of their kingdoms with them. It was not the privacy he wished, but it was better than nothing, and the guards were silent and kept their distance. Only really being there to keep the two young royals safe.

Thorin was pleased to find Solveig was, indeed, an excellent horsewoman. She actually rode almost better than he did. For one, she did not use a sidesaddle, but instead wore a split skirt and rode astride. He had been rather surprised when he first realized this, but she had given him her usual mischievous grin.

"I can hardly expect to keep up with you riding on a sidesaddle, now can I?" she asked him.

He didn't argue, and liked her all the more for it.

They hadn't had much time alone since their picnic in the library and with his worrying about his grandfather, Thorin hadn't had much time to think about it, or about the moment they had—almost—shared together. That had given him very many mixed feelings, and he wasn't sure quite what to think about it. He wished to have the chance to talk to Solveig about what had happened, but they didn't get to be alone for long enough, and there was also the problem of how he would approach the subject. He didn't want to seem forward, and he was so terrible at those kinds of conversations. He had thought the moment was intimate, and that there were shared feelings on both sides, but he wanted to make sure. He didn't want to insult Solveig by assuming she had indeed been flirting with him if she actually wasn't, but yet, he didn't want to seem indifferent, because he did know enough about the fairer sex to know _that _was never a good idea. He sighed, and decided to stop thinking about it before his head hurt. He wished he had drummed up the courage to speak with Dwalin about it. His roguish friend knew much more about wooing ladies than he did, and would likely be able to tell him what he should do and how best to go about it.

They stopped by a stream to water the horses and the guards were stopped farther down, out of hearing range. Thorin helped Solveig down and they were both laughing at something she had commented on. Thorin didn't even realize he hadn't let her go, until he had reached up to brush a stray curl from her eye and remembered the scene in the library and was suddenly very aware of her supple body pressed against his. He cast a quick glance in the direction of the guards and slid his hand from her waist, turning to Torrent to draw him closer to the river.

"You don't need to be so shy, Thorin," Solveig told him teasingly and he only blushed all the harder. "Do you think that I would be so quick to object?"

"Would you?" Thorin couldn't help but ask, turning around again.

"You weren't so awkward when we met the first day. When we didn't know who the other was," she replied with a wicked smile that he couldn't help but return. "Is it because you know I'm a princess now and you think I deserve something more than a common woman would?"

"It's not that," Thorin replied, almost indignantly. "I just don't like to be watched when I'm trying to woo." He snapped his mouth shut before he said something else ridiculously stupid. Solveig's silvery laugh echoed out and he had to look at her again.

"So, you _are_ wooing me," she exclaimed. "I was beginning to wonder."

"I don't know what I'm doing," Thorin replied honestly, sitting down on a rock with a sigh. "I don't…there's just…"

Solveig sat down next to him and captured his hand in hers, rubbing it gently with her thumb. "Don't Thorin. There's no need to explain. I understand. I do. I know you're worried about your grandfather right now, and to be honest, the fact that you care so much about him and about your siblings and still manage to do your duty only makes me like you all the more. And I really do like you, Thorin. I find myself so fortunate that you are the one my father picked for me. But I also want you to know that if you do not feel like a betrothal is right during this time, then I will not have any hard feelings and I will support you in your decision."

"Solveig," Thorin said shaking his head. "I never said that. And I, well, I really like you too. More than I ever thought. You're just," he laughed slightly and shrugged, "so different from anything I ever could have expected or hoped. I don't want to let my father down, but even more than that, I don't want to let _you_ down, and I think that if we really do feel like we can make this work, then it will work, despite everything. I just don't want it to feel like it's our duty to be together just because that's what our fathers want; I want it to be real. Maybe it's too early to say, but I think we should think about it a bit. If you're okay with that?"

She smiled, and squeezed his hand between both of hers. "I am."

She was just so beautiful, and her understanding made Thorin's heart warm to her even more if that were possible at the moment. He reached out to brush away that errant curl again and couldn't resist cupping her cheek, and then, almost instinctively, he was leaning forward. He saw her eyes close, right before his own did the same and felt her breath on his lips…

"My Lord, Prince Thorin!"

Thorin drew back, clenching a fist against his knee. Just when he worked up the courage, something had to interrupt the moment they were sharing. He stood up, releasing Solveig's hand and saw one of his young guards, Erak, standing there in front of him, a slightly sheepish look on his face, but he could also see the worry behind it that made this interruption more important that the prince's privacy.

"What is it, Erak?" Thorin asked, frowning. "Has something happened?"

"A messenger just rode here with news, my lord," Erak said. "He says it's the king; he's having a fit and no one can calm him. Your father sent for you expressly."

Thorin was already turning around to Solveig. She looked at him with sympathy on her face and he lifted her effortlessly into the saddle before jumping onto Torrent's back and drawing him around. "Look after Princess Solveig, Erak," was all he said before he kicked his pony into movement and was galloping off, one of the other guards following right behind him.

Once he got back to the mountain he swung off his horse, leaving Torrent to the care of the grooms and hurried into the palace. Dwalin and Balin were waiting for him and Thorin went to them instantly.

"Good, you're here, lad," Balin said with relief, holding out a hand and drawing Thorin further down the corridor.

"What's happened?" Thorin asked, hurrying along with the two brothers.

"Your grandfather was fine all morning and then suddenly, he disappeared, and the next thing we knew he was hammering at the door to the treasure room, screaming." Balin shook his head, a sad look on his face. Thorin's stomach clenched. "Your father and Frerin are with him now, but he won't calm down. He's…" he hesitated, casting a glance at Thorin before the prince nodded to him earnestly to continue. "He's already wounded two guards before they got the axe away from him. Your father wanted you here, Thorin. He said you seemed to be the only one who was able to get him to calm down."

"Oh Mahal," Thorin groaned. "Frerin's there?"

"Aye, I tried to get him to leave," Dwalin said. "But he wouldn't. And don't worry, Dis is safe and I don't even think she knows what's going on."

Thorin began to hear the commotion and quickened his steps until he was running, Balin and Dwalin keeping pace with him. He had no idea what he was going to encounter, he only knew that he really didn't want to have to see it. A part of him, a very small, selfish part of him, was angry at his father for putting him in this situation, but he knew that he would be there all the same, even if he were forbidden. It was only his father's seeming uncaring for what he was going through, not to mention Frerin! Had his father called him there too?

They rounded the corner to the treasure room and Thorin confronted the scene head on. His father was standing off behind several warriors, a hand held to his shoulder as if he were hurt. Frerin was beside him, pleading with Thror, but Thorin saw it was doing little good. The sight of his little brother holding back tears tore at him.

But not as much as the sight of his grandfather himself. Thror still held the broken haft of a pickaxe, and was alternately waving it threateningly at the gathered warriors, and smashing it against the treasure room door, trying to break inside. He was screaming, weeping, pleading with them to let him in, because he said he was going mad. He would go mad without the gold.

Thorin forced his way through the warriors. "Get back," he said to them. "Get back, leave; give him some room!" He didn't want anyone else hurt. He made his way to his father and Frerin who looked at him in relief and despair respectively.

"Frerin, leave," Thorin said quietly, taking his brother by the shoulder and maneuvering him backwards toward Balin.

"I'm not going anywhere, Thorin," Frerin told him shakily, clutching a hand in his tunic. "I tried to talk to him, but I couldn't. Oh Mahal, he's so…"

"Shh," Thorin said, trying to shush him and ran a quick hand over his hair. "Just step back." He gave the order again for all the warriors. "Step back now; do not make him think you're a threat!"

"Prince Thorin," It was Beric, coming over to him. "I would not suggest this, he needs to calm down before anyone approaches him. Even you. You know what happened last time…"

"Someone needs to do something before he hurts himself," Thorin insisted firmly, cutting the warrior off. He couldn't think of that now. He looked to his father who gave him a nod and turned back to Beric. "It will be fine."

He turned back toward his grandfather who was currently trying to bash his way through the huge lock that had been put on the treasure door only last week.

"Grandfather," Thorin called softly. He had unbuckled his sword and handed it to Dwalin so Thror wouldn't mistake him for an enemy. "Grandfather, can we talk?"

"It's my gold and they won't let me see it!" Thror shouted at him, spinning around and brandishing his stick at him. Thorin had to force himself not the flinch backward. "How do I know it's there? I need to see it! It calls, it hurts not to see it!"

"I know Grandfather," Thorin said, his voice starting to break, but he forced himself to keep it steady. "I know it does, but can you please come to me and you can go lie in bed for a while and calm down. You're not feeling well right now."

"I need my gold!" Thror cried, advancing on Thorin. "That's what will make me feel better!"

Thorin held his hands up to calm him, remembering all too well how quickly Thror had struck him last time. "Grandfather, it's the gold that's making you sick. You might think it will help to see it, but it won't. Trust me. Now let's go have some tea and rest."

"You think you know better than me, boy?" the dwarf shouted, shoving Thorin back several paces with the stick against his chest. "I'm the king! I will do as I please!"

Thorin ducked and the blow fell on his shoulder. He bit his lip to keep from crying out. He meant to reach out and grab his grandfather, wrap his arms around him, hoping maybe the contact would help, but another blow came and another, and he was on the ground, not even knowing what had hit him. He heard shouting and suddenly he looked up and saw Thror with a battle snarl on his face raising the stick for one final blow to his head. He vaguely heard several voices call his name, and he could only raise an arm to protect himself as Thror brought the stick down.

But then the king was yanked backwards as Beric and Balin firmly locked their arms around his and disarmed him. Thror was still struggling but they were pulling him off down the hall now with the help of several others.

"Thorin!"

Hands were suddenly on his back and shoulder and he hissed in pain. He was pulled onto someone's knee and he somehow knew it was Frerin even though he was still dazed, unable to really make sense of what had happened. He hadn't even been hit in the head, but he felt just as muddled as if he had been.

"Thorin, oh Mahal, are you all right?" This was Dwalin coming and crouching in front of him, taking his face between his hands and forcing him to look at him. Thorin couldn't articulate words, so Dwalin slapped him. That brought Thorin around and he gasped, struggling to sit up only to fold over at the pain that suddenly blossomed in his side. Frerin wrapped his arms around him tighter, and he was crying. Thorin wanted to tell him not to squeeze him so much, and at the same time really wanted nothing more than to comfort his little brother, but he couldn't say anything. It wasn't even the physical pain, really, it was everything pressing down on him, his whole world crumbling down and crushing the breath from his lungs, that made him want nothing more than to slip into the blankness that was wavering uncertainly around his vision. And that's exactly what he did, unable to find the will to fight it.

* * *

"_It's not even that bad,"_ Dwalin was telling him, patting his uninjured shoulder companionably. He was forcing a smile, but Thorin saw none of the normal good humor in his eyes.

"How can you say that, Dwalin?" he asked, his voice low and grim. "It's not that bad? Maybe not by psychical standards, but besides that I don't see how anything could be worse right now."

Dwalin's face fell and he turned his eyes down. "I'm sorry, Thorin. I didn't mean it like that—you know that."

Thorin didn't say anything, just closed his eyes and turned his face toward the window. Dwalin shifted on his feet for several seconds before he sighed and finally left the room.

He was sitting in the window seat, his dressing gown draped over his bare shoulders. He had refused to lie in bed. He was not convalescing. He had left it as soon as Oin had finished seeing to his hurts: a dislocated shoulder and two cracked ribs. It was pittance. A dull pain compared to the one he carried in his chest that throbbed with all the agony of a mortal wound. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't. It was like all his emotions were locked up inside his chest and wouldn't even give him that small welcome relief to let off some of the pressure.

Frerin was sitting at his feet, refusing to leave him alone, and Thorin didn't make him. What was the point now? Frerin should never have been witness to what had happened earlier that day, and Thorin would never forgive himself that his little brother had seen that.

"I just can't believe it," Frerin whispered to him, finally making Thorin turn back around to his brother. Frerin's voice was still thick with recently shed tears, his lip trembling. He was sitting against the other side of the window seat, his knees pulled up tight against his chest. He looked so young it just made Thorin hurt worse. And the fact that he actually thought it was their grandfather's doings on purpose was too much for him.

"It was not him, Frerin, you know that," he said, more harshly than he should have. Maybe because he was still trying to tell himself that as well as his brother, and wasn't entirely sure it was working. Frerin ducked his head, sniffing into his sleeve. Thorin sighed, and softened his voice. "Frer, I don't know what will happen in the days to come, but we just have to…oh damn the whole thing, I can't think of a thing to say right now. I don't have a bloody clue as to what we're going to do. I don't know." He closed his eyes again and leaned his head back against the stone side of the alcove. Frerin took a shuddering breath and then laid his head down against Thorin's thigh and the older brother brought up his hand and tangled it in Frerin's hair, holding him there. Frerin's shoulders shook with silent sobs and Thorin wished he could join him, but couldn't. He didn't know why. His chest ached with the wanting to weep, but something was stopping him.

He didn't know how long they sat like that, but finally Frerin's sobs stopped and turned into even breaths, and Thorin realized he was asleep. He stood up slowly so as not to disturb him, decided he couldn't be in the room anymore. He took his dressing gown off and draped it over Frerin before he grabbed a shirt from the back of a chair and tugged it on painfully, not even bothering to tie it or tuck it in and left the room.

He wasn't entirely sure where he was headed, even though he pretty much knew where he wanted to end up. He made it to the training hall and grabbed a practice sword from the wall, heading straight over to one of the posts before he began to hit it with all his strength. He used no skill, just anger, and screamed until he was hoarse, striking out at the post until his arms ached, especially his injured shoulder and his ribs burned beyond pain. He was short of breath, trembling with fatigue and agony, but he couldn't stop yet. Not until everything faded away.

Finally he was unable to even hold the sword, and it slipped from his hands. He bent to retrieve it, but his ribs caught and forced him to his knees, sobbing for breath and every inch of him burning in agony. He leaned his forehead against the post, gasping, and finally, _finally_ the tears came, and he choked them out in painful sobs due to the shortness of his breath.

His hand found the tight sweat-soaked bandage around his chest and pulled weakly, trying to make it easier to breathe, before he gave up, deciding it was probably best to leave it. He had been injured by his grandfather's hand. It hurt. It hurt so much in more ways than one, but yet, Thorin still couldn't help but feel even worse for Thror and how he would feel when he came back to his senses. If he came back. And Frerin. He could kill himself for the fact his brother had seen that. Despite the circumstances, would he ever be able to forgive their grandfather? How would he have felt if Frerin had been the one to take the beating at his grandfather's hand? It didn't bear thinking about, and he _didn't _want to think about what that would have made him feel. Thorin was being crushed with too much pain, too much responsibility, and he was afraid it would going to make him go just as mad as his grandfather.

He didn't hear anyone enter the hall. He wasn't even sure how long he had been there, but he was suddenly aware of a figure kneeling beside him, a soft, kind hand resting between his shoulder blades and a gentle whisper, "Thorin."

He didn't even think about it, could find no strength to be ashamed that she had found him in this state, even though something in the back of his mind was telling him that he should. He turned his face to her, tears still streaming down his cheeks, and saw Solveig kneeling beside him, tears threatening in her own eyes, her hand still on his back.

"Solveig," he whispered back.

"I'm so sorry, Thorin," she said, taking the skirt of her dress and using it to wipe the tears off his face before she put her other hand on his cheek, smoothing over the faded bruise that was nearly gone, only to be replaced by worse hurts. "Dwalin told me what happened. I wanted to find you. I wanted you to know you don't have to go through it alone."

He closed his eyes and choked on another sob, unable to say anything. Solveig slid closer and pulled his head down to her shoulder, holding him tightly. Thorin didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her in turn, his face pressed against her neck. She was soft and warm, and her hair smelled like roses on a summer's night. It was so calming he began to feel better immediately. Solveig gently stroked his hair and down his back, turning to press her lips softly against his cheek.

The light touch sent shivers over Thorin's body and he gasped, pulling back so he could see her.

"Sorry," she murmured, blushing slightly. She was about to release him completely, but Thorin clung to her tighter, sitting up and pulling her against his chest.

"No," he shook his head. "Don't be sorry." He reached up to gently stroke her face between his hands. "Thank you for coming. I—I think I really do need someone right now."

"I knew you'd never ask," she whispered.

"Thankfully, I didn't have to," he replied and leaned closer to capture her mouth with his. She seemed startled by the action at first, stiffening, and it took Thorin a moment to register the sensation, but she soon relaxed against him and brought her hands up to clasp around the back of his neck. Thorin held her face between his hands, then deepened the kiss, sliding his hands up to thread into her hair, finally taking as many liberties with her silky tresses as he wished. He pulled back after a long while, cradling her head gently and watching her eyes to see how she reacted. A smile began to spread across her lips and he took that as a sign to continue. Her hands slid down to his chest and he took her shoulders, pushing her back against the post somewhat roughly as he captured her mouth again. He pressed his body against hers until he could feel her heart beating. Both of them were ready this time and it was a much more passionate kiss.

He didn't know how long it was before he pulled back again, both of them looking horribly disheveled, but not really caring at the moment.

"Everything will work out, Thorin," Solveig whispered to him, tangling her fingers through his hair. "It will all be okay."

Thorin didn't know what to reply, but he didn't say anything at all. The only thing he seemed capable of doing was pressing his lips against Solveig's once again.

* * *

**Yep, kissing finally! ^^ Hope you all liked :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**New chapter! Kind of a filler one, but the next chapter will really start to pick up in the plot. I'm still hoping to get another chapter up this weekend, but I'm not really sure it will be done. If not, I'll try and post it Monday, it depends on how busy I end up being this weekend. I hope you like this one though. Thanks for all my readers' continued support! It always makes it that much easier to write :)**

Chapter Seven

It was a long time before Thorin left Solveig to return to his chambers. It was past suppertime now, but he knew there wasn't going to be a formal supper that night with the events that had transpired that day. He felt the ache of his injuries weighing him down, but otherwise he was beginning to feel better. Better for the fact that he had spent a good amount of time in Solveig's arms, with his lips against hers.

He had never imagined kissing her could be so wonderful. It was not his first kiss ever; he'd had a few little dalliances with girls in the past, but Solveig was the first girl he really genuinely cared about, and he realized now that he was, indeed, deeply in love with her. It made him feel warm and comfortable, but he wasn't going to tell anyone now. He would keep it as his warm secret close to his heart to comfort him at night.

He was in a terrible state of appearance, having driven himself to the bone in his poor condition in the training hall, and then, of course, from the bout of fumbling he and Solveig had indulged in afterward. If he had been in a better mood and not so tired, that thought might have brought a smile to his lips, but he only winced as he flexed his newly relocated shoulder and continued on his way to his room, planning on washing up and getting straight into bed.

But he passed his grandfather's room on the way and saw light from under the door. He hesitated, thinking it best to continue on, but then, heaved a deep sigh and couldn't help himself from grasping the doorknob and opening the door a crack.

Inside, he saw his grandfather laid out on the bed, sleeping deeply, probably in a drug-induced state. Thrain sat on the other side of the bed, one of his father's hands held in his own. Thorin just stared at his father, never having seen him quite like this before. Thrain's eyes held a deep sadness, something Thorin had noticed after his mother died, but only when Thrain didn't think anyone else was watching him. He slumped against the bed, his other hand used to prop his head up. He looked so weary, so worn thin, and in despair, Thorin wasn't sure what to do.

Finally Thrain seemed to realize he was standing there and he looked up, meeting Thorin's gaze over the bed. Thorin came into the room fully, but didn't step over to the bed.

"How is he?" he asked quietly.

Thrain ran a hand over his face, and started to put his usual mask back on, but it wasn't as strong as it normally was. "Resting now. Oin gave him something. I hope…" he hesitated slightly, "I hope he might wake up tomorrow and be himself again."

Thorin nodded. He didn't want to voice that hope, fearing it would only be a hollow one. "I don't know what else we can do."

"We can help him the best we can," Thrain said. "I don't think closing the treasure room was the best idea though, looking back."

"Maybe not," Thorin murmured, looking down at his grandfather's sleeping face. Thror looked so peaceful now, not anything like he had been earlier. He finally looked back up to his father and found Thrain's eyes on him.

"Are you all right?" his father asked quietly.

The concern he showed—something so very rare, Thorin wasn't entirely sure what it was at first—made a painful warm feeling in the middle of Thorin's chest. He nodded. "Yes. I'm fine." And that was all he could say even though it was very far from the truth. He nodded to his father and turned around, closing the door behind him.

When he turned around in the hall, he was startled to see Balin behind him, a kind, yet sad look in his eyes. Thorin rubbed his face tiredly.

"You look done in, lad," Balin said softly, putting a hand on Thorin's uninjured shoulder, and pushing him toward the direction of his room. "You shouldn't even be out here. You should be in bed."

"I'm heading there," Thorin told him and allowed Balin to accompany him, looking as if he were ready if the prince decided standing wasn't an option at the moment.

"Are you all right, lad?" Balin asked him gently.

Thorin stopped, closing his eyes, and finally turned around to the older dwarf, decided not to lie to him like he had to his father. "No, Balin. I'm not. I know I'm not, and I don't know when I will be, unless we can fix my grandfather. I'm still standing, but am I all right? No, not at all."

Balin looked at him sadly, and offered a small smile, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly. "We're all going to do everything in our power to get your grandfather back on his feet, Thorin. You know that. And lad, know that if you ever need someone to talk to, just find me. Dwalin's very worried about you, you know. I can't imagine what you've been through today, but remember that you have friends here to help you, and we're not going to let you deal with it all alone."

Thorin smiled, though his lips quivered and he was afraid the tears would start falling again. 'Thank you, Balin. I am very grateful for all of you. It's more than I could ever ask for."

Balin gave his shoulder another squeeze before letting him go. "Now get off to bed with you, Thorin."

Thorin bade him goodnight and walked the few more feet to his chambers. When he entered, he realized that Frerin was still sleeping on the window seat, and he was glad of that. For some reason, he didn't want to think of his little brother being alone that night. Maybe it was more that he himself didn't want to be alone.

He lit a lamp, painfully stripping out of his dirty clothes and the bandages, and washed up before plaiting his hair into a single braid. He was able to mostly rebind his ribs, but was unable to put a new shirt on without help because of his shoulder, so he just ignored it and slid into bed, trying to find a position where nothing hurt and disliking the tight feeling of the bandages around his chest, restricting his breathing. He wasn't having very much luck sleeping, his mind in too much turmoil, but he did have something nice to think about too. The taste of Solveig's lips, her hands in his hair, and her body pressed against his. It was almost enough to lull him into sleep and the kinds of delicious dreams those in love have.

There was a shifting in the room and Thorin vaguely wondered what it was, but was almost sleep. Then he felt someone pull up the covers and slide into bed beside him. A familiar and welcome presence.

"Sorry," Frerin murmured against his shoulder where he had firmly pressed his face. "I don't want to sleep alone tonight."

Thorin shifted to wrap his good arm around his brother's shoulders and pull him closer, wondering when was the last time Frerin had done this. Certainly he had been smaller than he was now. Thorin hadn't really seemed to realize how big his younger brother had gotten. "It's all right," he whispered, resting his cheek against the top of Frerin's head. "You can stay here."

Frerin settled down, and it was only a few minutes later that Thorin was startled from the edges of sleep again when the door opened a crack and someone slipped into the room. He looked over and saw the small silhouette before the door was closed and couldn't help a smile as he heard the soft padding of bare feet on the stone floor.

"Thorin?" Dis' whisper came as she stood at the side of the bed. "I had a bad dream. Can I sleep with you?"

Thorin help out his hand, beckoning her into the bed. "Of course, sweetheart."

She scrambled up and curled against his side instantly. Thorin cuddled her close and pressed a kiss to her forehead before he buried his face in her messy hair, closing his eyes again.

Finally, he felt calm enough to fall asleep, comforted by the presence of his siblings. Whatever had happened that day, whatever came tomorrow, he knew that this one constancy would never change, and that left him with a warmth and comfort that helped him get through the rest of the night.

* * *

_He woke early the next_ morning and left his brother and sister curled up in the warm blankets as he dressed and slipped out of the room. His whole body was stiff and sore and he decided he should probably ask Oin for something to ease the pain. But first, his appetite had seemed to return and the first thing he was going to do was go down to the kitchen and snag a quick breakfast before heading to the forges. He had something he wanted to do, and he wanted to get a start on it before anyone snagged him for anything else.

What he _really_ wanted to do was steal Solveig away to a quiet place to kiss her again. But they couldn't spend all their time kissing, of course, although it would make things much better and help to take his mind off everything else.

He was startled by a voice behind him as he was making his way to the kitchen.

"Good morning, my prince."

He spun around to see Solveig grinning teasingly at him, leaning up against the wall. She was alone and he felt his heart stutter in his chest as he cast a quick glance around, worried they would be caught. He knew his face was red.

"Good morning, Solveig, how are you?" he asked.

"Very well," she told him, coming closer. He stayed still as she brought her hands up and cupped his face gently between them. "Are you all right?" It was whispered and the sincerity in her eyes nearly broke him.

"I'm trying to become so," he told her in all honesty, and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I've decided to take it one step at a time." He leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, wanting more, but knowing they couldn't afford that at the moment.

Solveig pulled back with an extra peck on his cheek. "Everything will be all right before long, Thorin. You'll see."

"I hope so," he replied with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. He released her reluctantly and offered her his arm. "Have you eaten? I was just going to grab something quick from the kitchens, but if you would like to sit down…"

"That's fine with me," Solveig replied. "Off somewhere today?"

"I have many things to see to," Thorin told her. "I will have to leave you until this afternoon I'm afraid."

"That's all right, I'll amuse Dis while you're busy," Solveig told him with a bright smile.

They ate a small meal right in the kitchen among the admiring glances of the kitchen maids and the fond smiles of the older kitchen hands and then Thorin parted ways with Solveig to go about his business.

He decided it would be best to go see Oin first in the infirmary to get something for his pain before he went to work. Then he thought he'd stop in to check on his grandfather.

Oin wasn't in his apothecary when Thorin got to the sick rooms so he went to the adjoining room where the ward was situated, and heard low voices there. He spotted Oin first and hailed the older dwarf, then stopped as Oin turned around to his call and Thorin saw who else was in the room.

He first saw that two figures lay out in crisp beds, bandaged, but seeming not too badly damaged. These were the warriors who had gotten the worst part of Thror's outburst the day before. And then Thorin's eye whent to the fourth figure in the room, previously talking to the invalids: Thror himself.

"Grandfather," Thorin said in surprise, but also pleasure as he saw his grandfather up and about. Thror gave him a small smile, but there was such sadness and exhaustion on his face that it stopped Thorin in his tracks. Did he know what had happened? Did he remember?

"Thorin," Thror said. "I was just talking to these brave fellows. I—I was told that they came to harm because…of me." He said it slowly, sadly. One of the dwarf warriors gave him a hearty laugh.

"Oh we've taken much worse knocks from each other in training, your majesty. Just a bump this is," he motioned dismissively to his head that was swathed in a bandage.

"All the same, it was not very kingly of me," Thror said with a deep sigh.

"It's not your fault, sire," Oin told him kindly. "Just a little of the gold messing with your head. I'm working on it right now; see if we can get you back to your old self. Ah, Thorin, now what did you come for?" He seemed to realize it as soon as he said it as Thorin opened his mouth, casting a quick, worried glance at his grandfather. Oin offered a smile instead. "Ah yes, lad, don't worry, I did mix up that special scent for a certain lady," he winked to play along, and Thorin allowed his cheeks to redden for effect. It was worth the deception to see his grandfather's smile. Not what it should be, but close enough.

"I see you're warming to the Princess Solveig, Thorin?" Thror asked.

Thorin chuckled. "I am becoming attached to her, Grandfather."

The king seemed pleased by that. "That's good, Thorin, that's good. I hoped that you two would make a good match." He walked over to Thorin and clapped him on his bad shoulder.

Thorin tried to hide the flinch but was unable to do so, automatically curling over to protect his arm and that made his ribs catch, which resulted in a sharp gasp.

Thror stepped back instantly as Thorin looked up, feeling terrible as he saw the look of confused horror wash over Thror's face.

"Thorin?" he asked shakily. "Are—are you well?"

Thorin tried to shake it off with a carefree smile, gathering himself again. "Fine, it's just a sparring injury."

"Thorin, don't lie to me," Thror said, using his commanding, kingly voice that he only rarely used on his grandchildren. Thorin winced automatically.

"Grandfather, it's nothing."

"They won't tell me what happened," Thror said, angrily. "And I can't remember a damn thing, Thorin." He stepped forward with a jerking motion, reaching out hesitantly to put a hand on Thorin's cheek and running his thumb over where the bruise had been. "I—I hope I didn't…" his face crumpled and he folded his arms around himself. "Oh Mahal, Thorin, please tell me I didn't!"

Oin came back then, hearing the king's distress and Thorin was utterly unable to do anything. Oin slipped the bottle of medicine into Thorin's hand before he went to see to the king.

"What's going on?"

Thorin turned to see Thrain stride into the room, then run over to Thror.

"Father, what is it?" Thrain asked the king, taking his shoulders firmly in his hands.

Thror pushed him away. "How could you not tell me, Thrain? You told me about the guards, but my own grandson? How could you not tell me what a monster I am?!"

Thrain looked over to Thorin, anger flashing in his eyes. "You told him?"

"No," Thorin replied, unable to say anything else.

"He didn't have to tell me, Thrain, it's written on his face," Thror spat before collapsing to his knees and burying his face in his hands. "My own family suffers for my affliction. How can I make it right?"

"Father, please," Thrain pleaded before he spun around on Thorin again, a snarl nearly forming on his face. "Get out, you're only upsetting him!"

Thorin felt as if he had been slapped. He took one last look at his grandfather, wishing there was something, anything, he could do to help, but there wasn't. And his father was right, he was only upsetting him. He turned around and hurried away from the infirmary as fast as he could.

He didn't stop until he had made it to the forges, ignoring the greetings the workers threw his way. Once they saw the mood he was in, they left him to his own devices. Certainly it hadn't been the first time this had happened. Thorin hadn't even bothered to take the medicine. The pain throbbed, giving him a focus for his anger and grief, and aiding his work. He looked down at the molten metal before him and took a deep breath before he took up the hammer and began creating.

* * *

_It was long after time_ for lunch when he emerged from the forges, covered in sweat and smelling of metal and fire, but he felt better, calmer than he had earlier and he was happy with his work. He discarded the heavy leather apron he had been wearing and washed in the buckets with all the other workers, no different than they now. Not that day. His hair was bound up off his neck and his shirt clung to him from the heat so he stripped it off and used it to wash himself. He threw on just his over-tunic to go back to his room and washed properly, finally allowing himself a sip of the medicine Oin had given him. After he was refreshed, there was only one more thing he wanted.

He headed to the library and found Solveig sitting in the chair by the fire with Dis in her lap as they read together. She looked up with a smile as Thorin came in and leaned over to Dis.

"Why don't you go find a new book, Dis, while I talk to your brother," she said.

Dis happily ran off into the shelves of books and Thorin immediately went over to Solveig and crouched beside her chair. She reached out to rest gentle hands on his shoulders, moving them slowly up to card soothingly through his hair. "How are you?" she asked again, seeming to see the turmoil in his eyes.

"I'll be better in a minute," he replied and leaned forward to capture her lips with his.

He pulled away as he heard Dis coming back and sat down against Solveig's knee as Dis jumped back into her lap. He closed his eyes and listened to her read, managing to find some sort of peace at last. He actually found himself drifting off to sleep, and knew he shouldn't, but Solveig's hand soon came to rest against his cheek and pressed his head against her lap, and he couldn't resist another minute, letting consciousness go with a small smile on his lips.


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry that this chapter is a little late, it took me a while to fix it up, and I hope the romantic bits are not as cheesy as I felt they were when I was writing them :P I'll hopefully be back with more next weekend, in the meantime, have a great week!**

Chapter Eight

The next few days proved to strain Thorin's already tight nerves to their breaking point. His grandfather was walking on pins and needles around him, and Thror wanted nothing at all to do with Frerin and Dis. This hurt Thorin more than anything; more than his father's indifference, seeming to blame Thorin alone for Thror's current state. Even worse, it seemed that Frerin was now holding something against their grandfather after what happened to Thorin as well, and he hadn't a clue about how to deal with that. He wished more than anything, that his mother could be there to smooth everything out like she had always been able to do so well. Instead he found himself more and more confiding in Solveig, and also Balin who was proving to be a substitute—as much as he hated to say that word—or Thror when Thorin needed advice.

He spent most of his days either in the forge or going against Frerin and Dwalin in the training hall. Between that, he caught as many private moments with Solveig as he could but they were few and far between. Their time together was coming to a close, and he wasn't willing to even give Hroth that long to decide to leave with everything happening. He knew there was only one way to keep Solveig with him, and he found, much to his surprise, that he wasn't entirely against it. He was only against Solveig being taken away from him. Being with her, even though it had really been a short time, he realized he didn't want to have to be without her.

But the day after he finished the project he had been working on in the forge, he realized he had finally had enough of the atmosphere in the mountain. He had to get out of there for a while to breathe, else he feared he would suffocate.

He sought out Dwalin, knowing he could trust him and pulled him aside that morning.

"I need to get out of here," he said lowly to his friend.

"Sure, Thorin, we can go to town, have a run in the taverns if you want," Dwalin suggested with a smile. "I think it would do you good!"

Thorin smiled fondly at his friend but shook his head. "Not this time, Dwalin. I need to get out of here with Solveig."

"Ah, that's a whole other matter entirely!" Dwalin said with a chuckle and a bawdy wink that made Thorin roll his eyes. "I certainly won't be crashing that party. But I will be more than willing to cover for you."

"Thank you, Dwalin," Thorin said gratefully and clasped his friend on the shoulder. "I want your opinion." He reached into the pouch at his belt and pulled out a small wooden box that he opened to reveal a delicate chain of embossed silverwork studded with sapphires.

Dwalin took the box appreciatively and examined the work with admiration. "So this is what you've been slaving over for the past week," Dwalin said, fingering the delicate links. This is beautiful. I think she will love it."

"I'm going to ask her to marry me, Dwalin," Thorin whispered, as if he couldn't' quite believe it himself.

Dwalin gave him a double take, actually looking surprised. "You are? I didn't think…" He hesitated, not wanting to touch on one of the many painful subjects that were all too prominent at the moment.

Thorin shook his head and took the box back, tucking it safely into his belt pouch again. "I know what I said before, Dwalin, but I've come to realize, with everything going on, that life is short, and unexpected, and when you find someone you care about, you had better keep them close, because they have the habit of drifting away." He took a deep breath before he could continue. "I want to make it clear to you, Dwalin, as my friend, that I am doing this out of no duty to my father, but because Solveig and I love each other, and we genuinely want to be together. She will be a strong presence at my side in the years to come, and I will not let her slip through my fingers to go to someone who will not treat her with the respect she deserves."

Dwalin smiled and nodded firmly. "I think you do right, by her and by yourself. I see the way you are with her, Thorin. She makes you happy, and that is a wonderful thing, for one as staunch as you." He laughed and gripped Thorin's shoulders before pulling him into a tight brotherly embrace. "And I, in turn, am happy for you, my friend. I only hope that I can do as well!"

"You are the kind of man who will find a good woman, Dwalin. And thank you. If you could ready the horses for us and make sure the way is clear. We'll be back before supper."

Dwalin nodded and hurried off to see to his duties. Thorin rushed to pack a picnic lunch in the kitchen, helped gladly by the maids who smiled knowingly at him, having a good thought as to what he was about. He was glad he could finally give Solveig their promised picnic and ride all in one. And then he went to collect the lady herself.

Solveig was sitting in the library reading alone and she looked up and gave him a soft smile as he came in, setting her book aside. "Good morning, Thorin." Her smiled broadened as she saw what he was carrying. "Is that a picnic basket?"

"It is," Thorin told her, unable to help a nervous smile. "But we're not having it in the library this time. We're going out. Just us."

"Oh, the scandal that will cause!" she said with delight, standing up and going to meet him, pulling teasingly at the twin braids that draped over his chest. He bent down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"I don't care," he said recklessly, and suddenly pulled her against him with one arm, causing her to give a surprised gasp of delight. "I need to get out of here, and I'm not doing it with an entourage."

"I'm going to need to change first," she told him, as she stood on tiptoes to kiss him gently on the lips.

"Then hurry," Thorin told her with a grin, as he released her reluctantly. There would be plenty of time for that later. "Meet me in the stables. Dwalin is seeing that our escape goes undetected."

"You have wonderful, loyal friends, Thorin," she said and blew him a kiss as she skipped out of the library. "See you soon!"

He looked after her with a mixture of happiness and wanting, all grinding together with nervousness to make his stomach ill. He wanted her to be his wife. He was certain of that. Probably more certain than he was of anything else right now, but he was terrible at those kinds of things, and he couldn't help but think of a hundred ways to botch what should be a special moment. He knew he should have asked Hroth first for one, as propriety stated, but he felt he couldn't honestly do that before he had made sure it was what Solveig wanted. He was pretty sure it was, but he couldn't be certain until he had asked her himself and he would not ask anyone behind her back beforehand. Besides, there would be a formal, public engagement anyway, and he would have plenty of time to talk to Hroth between those two moments. No one had to know they were already betrothed beforehand. He knew his grandfather would approve.

_No, don't think about him right now_, Thorin forced himself with a shake of his head. Not that day. This day was about him and Solveig, and he wasn't going to let anything dampen his mood for her sake as well as his own.

He made his way hurriedly to the stables, trying the entire time to not draw attention to himself. He was taking the servants passages, but had to come out on the hall that held their bedchambers where he promptly ran into Frerin.

"Thorin, where are you off to?" his younger brother asked, eyeing the basket.

Thorin made a poor attempt to hide it. "Frer, I'm going out with Solveig, but you can't tell anyone, please, we just need some time alone. I need to get out of here for a few hours."

Frerin frowned at him, making no move to let him go. Thorin started to move again, but Frerin was still in his way. "Frer, come on, I need to leave."

A hand came out and settled against his chest firmly. Thorin looked down at his younger brother and read a mixture of emotions running through his face.

"You're not the only one who needs to get out of here, Thorin," Frerin told him, a note of bitterness in his voice. "I don't think you fully appreciate what _I_ have gone through this past week. And I don't have some lady fair kissing it better."

Thorin was shocked and angry at Frerin for thinking that was all he cared about. It made him regret his decision to leave the mountain that day. It was true, he was being selfish. He hadn't thought of it like that before. But that didn't give Frerin the right to accuse him of not caring, and insulting Solveig in such a way.

"I know perfectly well what you have gone through Frerin," he said in a low voice. "Believe me, I do. I was there, and you know it."

"But you don't get it, do you?" Frerin shouted, fists clenching at his sides. "You don't, otherwise you wouldn't be pushing it away like you are! I watched our _grandfather_ beat you maliciously, Thorin, my big brother! He _hurt_ you and you weren't even going to do anything about it!"

"What did you want me to do, Frerin?" Thorin cried, dropping the picnic basket to confront his brother. "Grandfather is sick, he didn't know what he was doing; you know that. You _cannot_ blame him for this. If you had seen his face when he found out…I never want to see that again. Ever. And if you accuse him of being _malicious_ one more time, I swear, Frerin, I'm not going to tolerate it." He shook his head, trying to quiet his voice, hoping no one came to see what was going on. "Believe me, Frerin, I wish every day that you never had to see that."

"Do you actually think it would have made it better?" Frerin cried. "You think running away from everything will? Running off with the princess and having picnics and _frolicking_ in the woods is going to make it all better?"

Thorin grabbed the front of Frerin's tunic and hauled him forward, growling low in his face. "I'm going to ask her to marry me."

"Oh, that makes it so much better!" Frerin said, disgust dripping from his lips. He shoved away from Thorin, sending a painful jar through his still healing ribs as he did so. "If you think that will fix everything, then go ahead! But next time, Grandfather might very well kick your head in, and then what, Thorin? Make your princess a widow before you even marry? I hope it's all worth it to you." He spun on his heel as his voice wavered and Thorin saw him raise an arm to swipe across his face as he hurried away. Regret and anger toward himself rushed through Thorin, replacing the rage he had felt earlier.

"Frerin," he called, hurrying after his brother, but Frerin got to his room and slammed the door in Thorin's face. Thorin sighed as he leaned against the door, hearing the lock click. He pounded his fist against it once and then trudged back to gather the picnic basket, knowing he had to hurry to the stables if he was going to get out of there clean. He almost didn't want to anymore, not after his confrontation with Frerin, but the thought of disappointing Solveig, even if he was certain she would understand, didn't sit well with him. He was ready to ask her to marry him, and he knew that if he hesitated now, he might never find a chance.

By the time he got to the stables he had mostly succeeded in capturing his emotions properly, though there was still the regret burning in his chest at his argument with Frerin. He never liked it when they fought, and he knew that, while Frerin's words hurt, he was only saying such things because he was just as scared and worried as Thorin was at the moment. He would do his best to reconcile between them when he got back.

"There you are!" Dwalin hissed as he came into the stables. "I had to send a guard away already with a ridiculous excuse that I'm not sure he bought. Your lady awaits you!"

"Sorry, I got caught by Frerin," Thorin said, then grabbed Dwalin's arm and pulled him close to talk quietly. "Look after him. I'm beginning to wish I had not planned to leave today."

"I'll see what I can do for Frer," Dwalin assured him before clapping him on the shoulder. "Now go woo your lady!"

Thorin smiled and went further in where Solveig waited beside her pony, holding both hers and Torrent's reins. She smiled as she saw Thorin and handed him the reins for Torrent. "Ready?"

Thorin packed the picnic basket on the back of his saddle and helped Solveig up. "Ready."

They tore away from Erebor, the exhilaration stealing Thorin's breath and giving him an instant feeling of freedom. It had been way too long since he had been away, not having to think about anything. Maybe it was selfish, but he also knew that if he didn't get a single moment with Solveig alone, away from the mountain, then he would never propose to her, and he knew that was what he had to do. He began to see her as his light; the key to his own sanity.

He led the way to a place that had been a favorite of his for years. He used to go there with Frerin and Dwalin when they were younger, and a couple times with Dis when they were able to get away, those moments being increasingly rare as he got older. But it was a beautiful meadow on the edge of a lake, with mountains across the water, and shady trees, and soft green grass that was perfect for laying in this time of year. He couldn't help turning to Solveig with an inquiring smile as they came to the place, wanting to know exactly what she thought of it. The look in her eyes and the smile she returned to him told him everything he needed to know.

He leapt down and went to lower her from her saddle, pressing a kiss to her lips as her feet touched the ground, then reluctantly letting her go to picket the horses.

"This is a beautiful place, Thorin," Solveig told him, looking around.

Thorin wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. "It's a favorite of mine. I played here through my childhood. Frerin, Dwalin and I would swim in the lake and have all kinds of adventures here."

She turned to him and brushed some wayward locks of hair off his cheek. "I think it's good for you to get away. Perhaps it will help clear your mind."

"Maybe you can help too," he replied with a smirk and she laughed, and teasingly slipped from his arms to take up the picnic basket.

"Let's set this up. How about under the tree?"

They were soon lying on the blanket, sharing the food Thorin had brought, laughing as they talked about nothing of import and just shared in their being together and alone, and for a while, carefree.

It was getting hot and Thorin was loosening the laces of his shirt. He was wondering when he should present Solveig with the gift he had for her and his promise, but he was completely distracted as she leaned over to him and whispered in his ear, "How about a swim?"

"I won't say no," he replied with a laugh as he kissed her and they leapt up, stripping to their underclothes. Thorin felt a strange glee at doing something so mundane and normal. As a prince he wasn't really supposed to go of on secret trysts with girls and play around like children, but he would allow himself the indulgence for one day. Even if it was only for that single day.

He was careful to tuck his belt pouch safely under his tunic to make sure nothing happened to his gift.

"Come on, Thorin!" Solveig called to him with a laugh, already ankle deep in the water. "It's lovely!"

He grinned and strode over to her, but when he got within several feet, he ran and grabbed her around the waist and plunged them both into the water. Solveig shrieked and he laughed as she splashed him in the face.

"You cad!" she said with obvious pleasure, shoving him hard in the chest before ducking him underwater. Thorin came up spluttering and laughing before he captured Solveig against him and kissed her deeply. Her hands tangled in his wet hair and he wished that this moment would never stop.

They splashed around for a bit, laughing and teasing before they climbed back out to dry off on the beach, lying in the soft grass under the sun. Thorin had threaded Solveig's fingers through his and had his eyes closed, on the verge of going to sleep when he heard Solveig shift and he looked over at her as she now lay on her side.

"Thank you for bringing me here, Thorin," she told him. "This was lovely. It was nice to get away and just forget I'm a princess for a day."

"It is that," Thorin admitted somewhat sadly. He just spent a moment to take her in, lying there next to him. Her hair was damp and matted but he thought she had never looked so beautiful. He liked the way her thin shift clung to her figure, still damp in places. Just seeing her like this made his mouth go dry and his body ache with longing. She had to be his, because he couldn't do without her. A sudden smile spread over her red lips.

"What?" she asked with a giggle.

"You're just…so beautiful," Thorin whispered to her, reaching out and brushing her damp hair from her face.

She blushed with pleasure and smirked some more, reaching out to trace lazy patterns over his bare chest, making him shiver. "So are you," she replied and he laughed, rolling onto his side to reach her lips again, pulling her close. He put a hand behind her head and drew her mouth to his, then wrapped his other arm around her and rolled onto his back so she was on top of him. It was intoxicating to feel her body pressed against him like this, her heart beating against his.

It was a long time before they reluctantly pulled apart and Thorin kept one hand on her waist, resting his forehead against hers.

"I love you," he whispered to her.

"I love you too," she replied, kissing his nose.

He sat up and took her hands, pulling her up as well. "Turn around, let me braid your hair."

"Good idea," she said with a little laugh. "Can't go back to the mountain looking so ravished. I'll do the same for you."

Thorin smiled as she sat between his knees and he worked all the tangles from her hair before he nimbly braided a simple, yet elegant design into her auburn locks, placing several wildflowers in as well along the way. When he was done, he kissed the back on her neck and felt a delighted shiver run over her skin under his lips. He thought then how the necklace he made her would look there against her pale skin, and he felt a nervous energy surge through him. It was now or never.

"Solveig," he started as she turned back around to face him. "There was something I wanted to talk to you about too. Why I wanted to be alone with you today." He was feeling awkward again, just hoping to get the words out comprehensively. He suddenly got to his feet. "Hold on, I'll be right back."

He went over to the blanket and was about to reach for the belt pouch when there came a noise through the woods that he immediately recognized as hoof beats. A sudden panic befell him as he thought it was likely a patrol from Erebor. It would be bad enough for them to find him out here alone with Solveig, but they were also still only wearing their underclothes. He couldn't allow that to tarnish Solveig's reputation.

"Solveig!" he cried in panic, and threw her her dress, using himself as a shield and he tried to push her behind a tree, but the horsemen were already in the clearing and Thorin turned around to meet them, ashamed, and burning with embarrassment but he was going to meet them head on anyway.

But what came was so much worse. It was not a patrol of dwarves at all, but a group of ragged, rough-looking men. He heard Solveig's gasp behind him, and instantly tried to scramble for his sword as recognition hit him: the bandits. Apparently, they hadn't moved on after all.

"Stop!" one called and Thorin froze as he saw several bows leveled at both him and Solveig. "We'll drop you both if you even think of going for a weapon."

Thorin held his hands out in front of him calmly before he reached back to capture one of Solveig's in his.

Now how in Durin's name were they going to get out of this one?


	9. Chapter 9

**Here's a really long chapter to start off your weekend! Hope it's worth the wait :)**

Chapter Nine

Several of the bandits dismounted and came over to Thorin and Solveig, their swords held ready while the other horsemen still held bows on them. Thorin counted about ten men in all. Even if he had been able to get to his sword, he knew there was no chance he could defeat them all without them killing him or Solveig or both, and he wasn't about to take that chance. He cast a glance at Solveig and saw her face white, but seeming to be more angry than scared. He squeezed her hand tighter as the men came to surround them.

"Having a little picnic?" one asked with a leer. Thorin thought he must be the leader or at least the one that these men took orders from. He had an air of authority about him and a cocky attitude that Thorin didn't like at all.

"Yes, and you weren't invited," Solveig said firmly, her voice tight with anger.

"Oh-ho, she's a saucy one, isn't she?" the man asked. "I do like redheads, never mind she's a dwarf." He reached out a hand to run through Solveig's hair but she jerked away and Thorin pushed her behind him at the same moment, grabbing the man's wrist.

"You touch her again, and I will kill you," he said in no unfamiliar terms.

"You'll die first, dwarf," the man said.

"Jaron!"

The other men were looking through their things and one called to the leader. Thorin stiffened as he saw the man holding up his belt and sword. His belt buckle clearly displayed the crest of Durin's Line, and he knew that if they saw it, and recognized it for what it was, this was only going to get worse.

The leader, Jaron, motioned for one of the others to watch Thorin and Solveig as he went over to see what his man had recovered. He took the belt and smiled broadly, turning to his companions and holding it aloft, drawing Thorin's sword and admiring the craftsmanship.

"Gentlemen, it appears we are in the presence of royalty," he bowed mockingly to Thorin. "Though you wouldn't know to look at him." They all laughed. Jaron came back over to Thorin and pressed his own sword under his chin, raising his head. "You must be Prince Thorin, am I right? Or is it Frerin? And I assume, from the news I have heard, that this fiery beauty is Princess Solveig, is that right?"

Thorin gave him no answer and Jaron smiled at him slightly before he backhanded him across the face. Thorin's head snapped to one side, and he felt Solveig's hands clench around his arm as if to restrain herself from tearing Jaron apart.

"This is brilliant!" Jaron said with glee. "Two very important hostages! And everyone knows that Erebor is bursting to the seems with gold and jewels. Think of the ransom lads!" The men cheered and laughed. Jaron turned back to Thorin. "How much do you think daddy will pay for your return, Prince Thorin? Whatever shall we do with so much gold?"

Thorin told him exactly what he could do with it and Jaron smiled at him before grabbing a fistful of his hair and bending his head back roughly. He placed the blade of Thorin's sword against his exposed throat and leaned over to whisper in his ear. "I would be careful, Thorin. I don't think either of your daddies will lessen the ransom price just because I'm selling damaged goods; in fact, they might actually…raise it." He laughed, his breath hot and rank against Thorin's face. "And if you continue to act the hero, I will show your princess what it's like to be with a real man."

Thorin clenched his fists, and had to muster every bit of self-control he possessed not to fight back. He would never let that happen.

Jaron released him with a pleased smirk, knowing he had won, and he turned back to his men. "Give them their clothes and tie them up, we'll head back to camp." He sheathed Thorin's sword in his own belt and Thorin caught his clothes as one of the other men tossed them to him, hurriedly throwing them on. He was then grabbed roughly and had his arms tied in front of him. Solveig was tied likewise and then they were shoved over to the horses. Thorin was attached to a lead rope, which one of the men wrapped around his saddle, giving it a jerk and causing Thorin to stumble.

"Hope you can run, your majesty," the man said with a laugh.

One of the other men was about to do the same to Solveig, but Jaron stopped him. "No, she rides with me. And grab their ponies too."

Thorin watched, his jaw clenched with anger as Jaron threw Solveig onto his horse and then climbed up behind her, pressing her against his chest and leaned close to her face. Thorin couldn't hear what he said, but Solveig's disgusted look told him all he needed to know. But reacting would only make it worse, and they were already moving and he had to concentrate on running to keep from falling on his face. He wasn't looking forward to being dragged through the forest.

They traveled for about twenty minutes, going all the time deeper into the woods, then came out in a clearing that was set up as a camp, several tents scattered around, and a fire in the center where several men were cooking. There were about ten more men there, and Thorin's heart sank even more with that realization. Their chances of escape were looking to be less and less likely. He supposed he should mark it as a good thing that Jaron could ransom them, but Thorin knew that did not guarantee their safety. Not by a long shot. Jaron had made it plenty clear that they were not safe from him and his men, especially Solveig. They could be perfect prisoners all they wanted, but Thorin knew their safety wouldn't last long.

They were taken to one side of the camp and chained to a tree. At least they were together, that was something. Jaron came over to them, rifling through Thorin's belt pouch.

"I expect you to be good, otherwise you will pay for it," he said, pulling out the box that contained Solveig's gift. Thorin's fists clenched, hating the thought of this bastard touching it. Jaron grinned as he opened it up and turned it around to show to Solveig. "Oh, look at that, isn't that nice! I can only assume this was for you. Pity you won't get to have it now. Unless you come to my bed."

"Keep it!" Thorin spat, grabbing Solveig's hand, and crushing it too tightly. He thought of about a hundred more things he wanted to say, but couldn't for fear Jaron would take it out on Solveig.

"Your loss," Jaron said, snapping the box closed and handing it to another man. He held up the belt. "This will come in handy, I think, but I need a little more proof of existence to make sure King Thror understands what's going on." He pulled a knife from the back of his belt and knelt down in front of Solveig. Thorin stiffened and growled.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "Get away from her!"

Jaron ignored him and stroked Solveig's hair with a smile, before taking a braid between his fingers and slicing it off. He kissed it mockingly, and tucked it into Thorin's belt pouch. "Just a little proof for your daddy, Princess. I'll be sending these to Erebor tomorrow with a reasonable offer. I'll make sure you don't have to stay here for longer than is necessary." He walked off a little ways and handed the belt to one of his men, before taking a bow from him. Thorin stiffened as he came back.

"I'm afraid I don't really trust you not to try to escape, Thorin," he said with mock regret as he placed an arrow on the string.

"What are you doing?" Solveig asked.

"I am sorry," Jaron said and shot the arrow into Thorin's leg, right above the knee. He cried out in shock as Solveig screamed and clutched him tightly. Jaron shrugged. "I do what I have to. I don't think you'll be going anywhere now."

He went off then and Thorin groaned as he forced his eyes open to meet Solveig's as she continually asked him if he were all right.

"No," he whispered. "None of this is all right."

She pulled his head against her breast and held him tightly as he fought against he waves of pain and anger that were assailing him. Their position was looking increasingly hopeless and he was quickly losing what hope he had left.

* * *

_He didn't know how long_ they sat there, Solveig rocking him in her arms and he just trying to keep a hold on consciousness, because he was afraid of what would happen to Solveig if he passed out. Not that he could do much in his position as he was. Solveig had torn strips from her skirt to press to his wound, but the arrow was still stuck in his leg and every small pressure, even if it was just her light touch, made him want to scream. The blood had soaked his trouser leg, and into the ground under him and he was cold and shivering.

Eventually, one of the outlaws came over with a jug of water and some firecake. He was younger than the others and cast a somewhat pitying glance at Thorin. Solveig saw and she caught his sleeve as he turned away, pleading with her eyes.

"Please, you have to help take the arrow out. If it stays in it will get infected, and Jaron wouldn't want that. If Prince Thorin dies, he won't have him for ransom. Please."

"I—I can't," the boy said, casting a worried glance behind him before scuttling off.

Solveig's arms tightened around Thorin and he turned his head up to look at her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, reaching up to finger her hair. "I'm so sorry, Solveig."

"Shh," she told him, kissing his forehead gently. "We'll get through this. Dwalin will know something is wrong by now and he'll tell the others. Maybe they'll even come rescue us before Jaron has a chance to proffer his ransom agreement tomorrow."

Thorin forced a smile. "Maybe."

He started as Jaron came striding over and crouched in front of them. Thorin saw the boy hovering in the background before he turned back to the fire.

"Alan says you want the arrow out," Jaron said conversationally, flicking the arrow shaft and causing Thorin to choke back a yelp. He smiled sickeningly. "I might be up for negotiation." He looked at Solveig meaningfully.

"You realize you have nothing if he dies," Solveig told him firmly. "It's in your best interest to do all you can. Even if you take the arrow out, he won't be able to walk for days. There need not be any other negotiation."

"You can't hold out to my charms forever, Princess," Jaron told her with a leer, stroking her cheek before she flinched away. "But I suppose you're right." He took hold of the arrow shaft and before Solveig could scream, he cracked it sharply to the side and a wave of unbelievable agony tore through Thorin, simultaneously making him scream and choking it off for lack of breath. He was vaguely aware of Solveig yelling at Jaron as she held him closer. He clutched at her but everything was fading and soon he was unable to keep the darkness at bay a moment longer.

* * *

_Frerin pounded at the training post_ trying to work out his anger. He was mostly angry at himself for saying what he had to Thorin that morning. He hadn't really meant it, he had just been mad, and at the time, he really did think Thorin was being selfish, but as he had had time to cool down, he felt worse and worse. He liked Solveig a lot, and thought she was good for his brother. It wasn't Thorin's fault that he had chosen to fall in love during a time of turmoil. That's just how things were. And he knew Thorin had been going through just as much, and more, as Frerin was, and the weight was all on his shoulders as the eldest son. Frerin loved his big brother; he was his protector and the one he looked up to. Their father had never been that to Frerin, since Thorin had been the one to actually raise him and Dis after their mother died and Thrain got colder and farther away from them. And that was why when he had watched his grandfather beat Thorin with a rage in his eyes, actually wanting to do it, something had broken inside of him.

It had been an unspoken rule for as long as he could remember: if anyone hurt a Durin sibling, they would not go unpunished. It didn't matter whether it was stranger or family member. Yes, the rational part of his brain knew very well that Thror hadn't been in his right mind, but the instinctive part of him wanted to make it right. Wanted to know why Thorin pushed it aside as if it were nothing when he couldn't. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw their grandfather beating Thorin. Sometimes in his dreams it was worse. So much worse. He had spent most of his nights crawling into Thorin's bed since the incident like he had when he was a dwarfling. He just needed that reassurance that Thorin was there and all right.

And that made him feel even worse about his fight with Thorin that morning. He knew that it was born of fright more than anything and he hoped Thorin would understand that. He needed him to get back so he could apologize, but it was already midafternoon and Thorin and Solveig hadn't yet returned. Of course, he supposed he shouldn't have expected them to get back too soon, but people would be asking if they weren't back within an hour or two.

The door to the training hall opened and Frerin turned around eagerly, half expecting to see Thorin come in, but it was Dwalin instead. Frerin sighed and lowered his practice weapon, going over to join Dwalin on the bench. The older dwarf tossed him a towel and Frerin wipes his face and neck with it before grabbing the pitcher and taking a swig from it.

"Is Thorin back yet?" he asked Dwalin.

Dwalin shook his head, a small frown between his brows. "No, he assured me they would be back before supper."

"My brother is usually punctual," Frerin told him, then cracked a small smile. "Although, it's possible he got lost."

Dwalin chuckled. "Yes, he does have an issue with that." He sobered again all too quickly. "I just hope that's the only reason."

Frerin's stomach twisted uncomfortably. "What, you think something happened to them?"

Dwalin shook his head. "No, I just don't want them to get in trouble. Thorin really is in love with Solveig. And I like her. I like what she does for him. I don't want their relationship jeopardized. If Hroth or Thrain find out what they are doing, they could forbid all interaction between them."

"But they were paired together purposefully, they can't say they couldn't get married now!" Frerin protested.

Dwalin shrugged. "Yes, but typically, when royals court each other, they need to be chaperoned. It's just what's proper."

Frerin sighed and stood up. "Well, I'm sure they'll be back soon. I need to go clean up before supper. Let me know when Thorin comes back."

"All right," Dwalin said.

But suppertime came and Thorin and Solveig still weren't back. Frerin looked all around the castle, even in the stables and found that their horses were still gone. He frantically ran into Dwalin who was puffing himself, and they shared a worried look.

"They're not back yet," Frerin said simply. "What are we going to do now?"

"I don't know," Dwalin said, pulling his braids distractedly. "Everyone will know as soon as they don't show up to supper. The best thing we can do now, is not let on we know anything."

Frerin nodded, though a sick, nervous feeling had already started to form in his stomach. Thorin was not usually late, and this whole situation had been pushing it from the start. He had the terrible feeling that something was wrong, horribly wrong.

He and Dwalin came into the dinning hall and, sure enough, Thrain, and King Hroth were there already. Thrain looked up as his younger son came in and nodded to him slightly before turning back to his ale. Frerin and Dwalin took their seats as calmly as possible and the whole room waited for the rest of the party to appear. Frerin wiped his palms on his trousers nervously.

King Hroth finally set his goblet on the table and turned to Thrain. "Your son seems to be late, Thrain. As is my daughter."

"Perhaps they got held up somewhere," Thrain replied, though Frerin could see the tightness in his face. "Thorin might have gone to visit his grandfather."

"Yes," was all Hroth said.

Finally, Solveig's two maids came into the hall, tears streaming down their faces. They went over to King Hroth and curtseyed.

"My lord," one said. "We-we cannot find Princess Solveig anywhere!"

Hroth was on his feet. "What do you mean, you can't find her?"

They both fought back sobs. "She went to the library this morning, and we thought she was in there all day like she usually is, but we went to find her to dress for supper and she wasn't there and we haven't been able to find her, and no one seems to have seen her all day!"

Hroth looked over at Thrain, his face red with rage. "And Prince Thorin has been likewise missing the entire day?"

"What are you insinuating?" Thrain growled.

"I think you know very well," Hroth growled back.

"Thorin has been going through much, I'm sure he is likely either with his grandfather, or perhaps he fell asleep and forgot the time," Thrain said and Frerin was actually surprised. He had never heard his father defend Thorin like that before.

"Then perhaps we should check his chambers," Hroth suggested in no unfamiliar terms, already striding to the door of the dining hall. Thrain was close on his heels and Frerin cast a look to Dwalin before they followed.

Thrain knocked on Thorin's door. "Thorin, if you're in there, open the door now!"

There was silence on the other side of the door. Frerin caught his breath, half hoping that Thorin might really be in there. Finally Thrain tried he latch and found it unlocked and opened the door to a dark room. He lit the lamp and realized it was empty. That was when he spun around and turned he attention to Frerin and Dwalin. His expression was so fierce, that the two young dwarves took a step back against the opposite wall.

"Where is Thorin?" he asked in a low, dangerous voice. "You two are always with him, you must know where he is."

Frerin met his father's steely eyes, but couldn't quite bring himself to betray his brother and Solveig. Not so blatantly in front of everyone. He shook his head. Dwalin shifted uncomfortably beside him.

Balin had come up by then, and he stood beside Thrain, glaring at Dwalin.

"Dwalin, answer the prince if you know anything," his older brother said firmly.

Dwalin hesitated another moment, and Frerin didn't even look at him. He knew Dwalin had to speak, and he was strangely glad it was not him.

"He didn't mean any harm," Dwalin said finally, his shoulders slumping with self-defeat, knowing his was betraying his friend. "He just, he wanted to have some time away with everything that happened."

"Is my daughter with him?" Hroth asked, shoving Thrain aside and leaning close to Dwalin's face.

Dwalin hesitated again and Balin glared at him. "Don't lie, Dwalin."

Dwalin sighed deeply and nodded. "Yes."

Hroth spun around on Thrain, his hands fisting at his sides. "See, I knew it! I swear, Thrain Son of Thror, if my daughter has been spoiled by your son, I will flay him alive!"

"My brother is a gentleman!" Frerin cried out, indignant anger pouring through him. "He would never sully Princess Solveig's reputation!"

"Frerin, enough!" Thrain snapped. He turned to Balin. "Get a patrol together and go look for them. It's after dark and they're not back, so I can only assume some misfortune has happened. They probably got lost." He turned back to Hroth. "We'll discuss things further when they get back, but not until we know the whole story!"

Hroth looked like he wanted to protest, but he nodded. Thrain turned around. "Now I'm going to go see to my father." And he walked away without another word.

Frerin and Dwalin looked at each other and sighed. Balin turned back to them with a small smile.

"I know it was hard to break Thorin's trust by telling us," the older dwarf said. "But you did the right thing. They might be in danger."

"Can we go with you?" Frerin asked, eagerly, unsure of whether he would be able to sit around while his brother was out there who knew where.

Balin hesitated then finally shook his head. "Best not, lads. I don't think Thrain would take kindly to another of his sons running off tonight."

"Like he'd care," Frerin said bitterly before he could stop himself. Balin sighed and gripped his shoulder tightly.

"Your father is going through a lot right now too, Frerin. We all are. Let's just work on finding Thorin and Solveig right now and then we'll take everything else in stride. Do you know where they might have gone?"

They explained where Thorin had told them they would be picnicking, and Balin left soon after with Beric and a lot of the other dwarf warriors in a search party.

Frerin and Dwalin stayed up into the small hours of the morning, counting the minutes and wondering when the patrol would get back with Thorin and Solveig. Each hour that crept by caused them to worry more and more.

Finally, Balin came back, looking weary and exhausted and they ran to him for news.

"Did you find them?" Frerin asked.

Balin shook his head. "No, I'm sorry lad. We searched the place you told us, and all over the woods, but the only thing we found was a blanket and empty picnic basket. The horses were gone, and the best we can guess, is that they must have left the site and gone riding and lost their way. It's too dark to track tonight, but we're going out again first thing in the morning. Now I've got to go talk to your father, I suppose." He sighed and ran a hand over his face tiredly. "You two need to try and get some rest. There's nothing else we can do tonight. Maybe they'll come stumbling home before we leave in the morning."

"Maybe," Dwalin said but he and Frerin shared a look and knew that probably was not going to be the case. Wherever Thorin and Solveig were, they had a horrible feeling something was very wrong.

Frerin left to go to his room and dressed in his nightshirt but only sat in the middle of his bed, knowing he wouldn't get any sleep that night. He buried his face in his hands, wondering why this had happened. Why he'd had that stupid fight with Thorin that morning. If something happened to his big brother now with everything else that was happening, he didn't know what he was going to do.

His door opened and he started, spinning around, and hoping it was Thorin or someone coming to say that he was back and safe. But it was Dis, standing there, rubbing her eyes and pouting.

"Frer, I had a bad dream. I went to see Thorin but he's not in bed."

Frerin helped her crawl into his bed and held her tightly, burying his face in her hair and letting her warm little body comfort him. "He'll be back soon, Dis," he whispered to her, hoping he was right about that. "He'll be back soon."

* * *

_Frerin must have dozed off_ at some point because he awoke the next morning with a start, and listened to the commotion outside in the mountain. He left Dis sleeping in his bed and ran out without even dressing to see what was going on. He caught Dwalin coming to get him and felt his stomach twist in anxiety as he saw the older dwarf's face.

"Dwalin, what's going on? Have they found Thorin and Solveig?"

Dwalin shook his head and Frerin wrung his hands worriedly. "The patrols went out before dawn, but now a band of horsemen has been spotted and we're going to go out to meet them and see they want. Get dressed, you should probably be there."

Frerin ran back into his room and threw on clothes before rushing back out to Dwalin and the two jogged to the entrance of the mountain. A lot of the dwarven warriors were already outside, waiting to see what this contingent would bring, but Frerin saw, to his surprise, that his father wasn't there. A sudden fear strangled him as he realized he would have to stand in as the next of royal blood with Thorin gone. He looked to Balin and Beric who had come up with him and they nodded silently and followed him to the front of the men.

The group consisted of ten horsemen, the men looking rugged and on the side of roguish. Frerin took a deep breath and pulled his shoulders straight, doing his best impression of his father's cold stare as the presumed leader of the men rode ahead and dismounted his horse, holding up his hands to show he was unarmed.

"I came to speak with King Thror or Prince Thrain," he said. "I am Jaron Robertson."

"I am Prince Frerin and you shall tell me what you have to say," Frerin spoke up, hoping his voice didn't quaver.

Jaron seemed to smirk slightly at the young dwarf but bowed all the same. "Prince Frerin, I come with a proposition. You see, I happened to come across two unexpected guests to my camp yesterday and I wanted to see if you were interested in getting them back." He reached into his saddlebag and pulled something out, tossing it a few feet in front of Frerin. Beric stepped forward to retrieve it and turned with a pale face to Frerin. The young dwarf recognized it immediately as Thorin's sword belt. He took it in trembling hands and opened the belt pouch, almost vomiting when he saw the dark red braid of hair inside. He turned to hand it to Dwalin who took it with a clenched jaw, obviously fighting with everything he had to control his rage. Frerin turned back to Jaron and saw him smiling, knowing he had the upper hand and enjoying it. He fought back his panic and clenched his fists, digging his fingernails into his palms, as he forced his voice to stay calm.

"What do you want for my brother and Princess Solveig?" he asked.

"Erebor has plenty of gold to spare," Jaron said. "That is, if the rumors are true. I want three cartloads full of gold and gems if you want to see the prince and princess alive. I will be back here tomorrow morning to collect and I'll bring the hostages with me."

"You will not harm them!" Frerin called out. "You must vow to bring them back unharmed or you will not be paid in full."

"If I am not paid in full, my prince, then someone is going to suffer for it," Jaron said in no unfamiliar terms.

"We will see your terms met," Balin said quickly. "Tomorrow."

Jaron bowed again, a conman's grin on his lips. "Pleasure doing business." Then he turned around and rode off with his men.

Frerin only waited until they were on their way before he folded over himself with a cry that was part anger, part agony. He knew it wasn't princely to show such weakness in front of his men, but they were hardly his men, and he could not contain his anxiety and horror another minute. Balin grabbed him and pulled him against his chest before he collapsed and held him tightly.

"All right, laddie, it will all be okay. But now comes the hardest bit. Telling your father and King Hroth."


	10. Chapter 10

**Here's the long overdue next chapter. I'm very sorry I didn't get this up last weekend as I planned to, it just didn't want to get written, but I already have chapter 11 written as well now, it just needs editing, so you will get two chapters this weekend definitely, I promise! Thank you all readers for your continued support, I'm so glad you're still enjoying this story! This chapter is getting into the nitty gritty, so please enjoy :) I'll be posting the next one soon!**

Chapter Ten

Thorin woke painfully the next morning. The instant he moved, he remembered his leg and his entire body clenched in pain that only made it worse. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a shuddering breath. A hand soothed through his hair before resting on his cheek. For one delirious moment he thought he was a boy again and his mother was taking care of him, but then, he remembered what had happened and he forced his eyes open to look up and see Solveig leaning over him. His head was resting in her lap and he thought he would have felt very comfortable if he hadn't been shot and chained to a tree.

"How are you?" she whispered.

He winced, trying his best not to move. "I-I don't really know. Just in pain." His throat was dry and sore, probably from screaming, and he could hardly get the words out. Solveig reached to the side and took a tankard of water that one of the men had left and turned back to help Thorin raise his head to drink. She pressed it to his lips and he sipped the water, feeling a bit better after that. She helped him sit up but he still leaned heavily against her, and he looked around, taking stock of the camp. There were about half the men there as there were the day before.

"Where is everyone?" he asked.

Solveig was silent for a moment before she replied. "I think Jaron took them to Erebor. To announce our capture."

Thorin closed his eyes and hung his head. He didn't know what to say. He had no idea what his grandfather would do about this. Was he even well enough to think about it? But the worst part was the consequence he knew would come of this, and that was his inevitable separation from Solveig. Hroth would never allow them to be together after this, he was certain of it, and Thrain might even back him up. It was all Thorin's fault that they had come into this trouble. He had put Solveig in danger and he couldn't forgive himself for that let alone expect anyone else to do so.

Solveig reached out and took his hand gently in hers, squeezing comfortingly. "It's going to be all right, Thorin. You'll see. We won't be here for too much longer."

Thorin didn't reply. He didn't know what he could possibly say in this situation.

Solveig put a hand on his cheek and turned his face to press her lips against his. He wanted to tell her then that he had wanted to ask her to marry him, but what was the point now? It would only cause her more pain when their fathers tore them apart if they didn't die beforehand by the whim of these outlaws.

The sound of horses came through the trees and Thorin looked up to see Jaron returning with his men, a smug smile on his face. He swung down and called out to the rest of the men joyfully.

"It's a done deal, gentlemen! By this time tomorrow, we shall be rich as kings!" He laughed and strode over to Thorin and Solveig, crouching down to look at them. "Did you hear that? It seems your people want you back, and they agreed to the payment. I talked to your brother, Thorin. He seemed…upset." Thorin clenched his hands in anger at the thought of Frerin having to go up against Jaron, and alone? Where was his father when this was happening? "But don't worry, everything is worked out. Now as long as you're good for the next day until the meeting time, everything should work out, and you will go home unscathed. Well, without further scathing, anyway."

Thorin didn't say anything to him and Jaron seemed to get bored for he sighed and stood, winking once at Solveig before he turned back to his men who were pulling out bottles of liquor in celebration.

"Don't celebrate yet," Thorin muttered angrily. Even a day was a long time in their position, and he was afraid Jaron would not keep his word. If he got even half a chance, he needed to do everything he could to get him and Solveig out of there.

* * *

_Frerin had never seen his father_ like this before. At least, not since their mother had died, and then he had been too young and sad to really notice his father's reaction. But when they went to bear the news to him and Hroth of Thorin and Solveig's capture, Frerin was actually very frightened for his father. Hroth went ballistic, screaming at everyone and sundry and would have beaten Dwalin to pulp if Balin hadn't stepped in front of him to try and placate him when he found out that the young dwarf had helped the two lovers escape the mountain. Thrain, on the other hand was silent and still as one of the huge marble statues in the throne room.

Frerin watched his father's face grow pale and taught as he hesitantly related the news, all the life seeming to flow from it. He suddenly looked very old and tired, and his lips moved with only one word: _Thorin_.

"Father?" Frerin asked tentatively, placing a hand on Thrain's sleeve, causing the older dwarf to start and look down at him. "Father, what shall we do?"

Thrain shook himself. "We shall do what they ask. I will not lose my son. Not like this. Everyone to the treasure room, we must gather the three cartloads. We have no time to waste."

Everyone went and they spent the better part of the day filling three carts of riches. Frerin felt sick through the whole thing. He didn't trust that man to not hurt Thorin or Solveig. Maybe he already had. Maybe they were already dead. Just because he had their things didn't mean they were still alive. _No_, he shook his head. _Don't think like that._ He put his mind to the task at hand and tried to think that it was only until tomorrow. Only then until he would see Thorin again. He forced that thought through his head again and again until it became a chant for him to work by.

Just as they began to load the third cart, Thror entered the room, looking around him in confusion.

"What are you doing?" he asked with a sudden panic in his voice. Thrain turned around to see his father and went to meet him. Frerin froze, watching with growing trepidation, wondering what would happen.

"Father, go back to bed," Thrain urged. "Come, I'll take you."

"My-my gold; you're taking it away, aren't you?" Thror asked, not moving anywhere. "It's because of me, of what I did. You think to hide it. If only that would work."

"We're not hiding it, we just need some," Thrain said.

"Then you're taking it from me?" Thror asked, starting to get agitated. "It's mine!"

Frerin knew the last thing he could deal with right now was another of his grandfather's episodes, so he strode forward with all the confidence of his older brother and held his hands out to his grandfather. He went straight up to him and took his hands in his, looking him in the eyes.

"Grandfather, we are not taking the gold away to spite you. Thorin has," He swallowed hard, "Thorin and Solveig have been taken hostage by a group of bandits, and they asked for a ransom. Can we please have what they asked for so that we may get them back?"

"Thorin?" Thror asked, shock and fear on his face as he turned to Thrain. "Why did you not tell me? When did this happen?"

"It happened when he ran off with my daughter on a clandestine tryst," Hroth said angrily, coming to join the conversation.

Thror glared at the king. "Now, see here, Hroth. My grandson is an honorable gentleman and I'm sure he has not done anything to blacken your daughter's reputation. I know that he loves the girl very much. He told me himself, and I have a feeling he took her away alone so he could propose to her, which is what we wanted anyway. Now please, go back to your duty. We shall give the bandits what they want and get our prince and princess back." He bowed low and turned to leave the room. Frerin breathed a sigh of relief. It was very good to see his grandfather so much like his old self again. He shared a look with his father and then they both set back to work.

Once the work was done, the waiting really started to set in and Frerin thought he would go mad. He and Dwalin spent most of the rest of the day in the training hall, trying to work off nervous energy. That night, he could not sleep and was glad when Dis once again crept into his room. She snuggled up against him.

"Frer, no one will tell me what happened to Thorin and Solveig. Are they all right?" she asked him.

Frerin took a deep breath before he started, trying not to let his worry tint his voice. "I'm sure they're all right. We should see them again tomorrow."

She didn't say any more after that, but Frerin didn't think she was actually satisfied with that answer. He knew he wasn't.

* * *

_That night in the camp_ Thorin and Solveig watched as the outlaws drunk and laughed and sang around the fire as if they had already gotten all their gold. They tried to remain inconspicuous, not wanting to catch the attention of any of Jaron's men for fear of the outcome. However, after a while, Jaron himself came over, staggering slightly, and Thorin instinctively positioned himself as far in front of Solveig as he could manage with his wound and chains.

The outlaw leader smiled at them and crouched down. "Only a few more hours now, and hopefully your families will make good on their promise, then you can go home." He reached out and stroked Solveig's face. "Though it will be a shame that we never got to know each other better."

"I think I'll survive," she stated blandly.

He chuckled, then turned back to Thorin. "There was something I was thinking of asking you, Prince. Now, what was it? Ah yes," he leaned closer and Thorin pulled away at the rank smell of his breath. "The stories I have heard of Erebor, of the special gems that you mine there that have been found no where else in the world. One in particular, the Arkenstone? Is it only a myth?"

"No, it is real enough," Thorin said, eager to get the subject away from Solveig. "And cursed into the bargain."

"Cursed is it?" Jaron asked with amusement. "That's not in the common story."

"Well, it is," Thorin told him bitterly. "It makes you lust after the gold and riches. Turns your head. It is a ruin to anyone who has it."

"Ah, so is that what is happening to King Thror? I had heard those rumors too. Rumors that he was going mad."

Anger instantly surged through Thorin and he growled into Jaron's face. "Shut your mouth. I will not hear you speak of the king like that!"

A hand connected sharply with his cheek and Thorin's head whipped to one side, blood dripping from a cut to his cheekbone. Jaron's face was no longer scathing and mocking. He was angry.

"While you are still my prisoner, my prince, you will do well not to speak to me like that. You should know well enough I am not afraid to do you damage. You or the princess."

Thorin stared at him, still defiant, but stayed silent before turning his eyes down. It took all his willpower to do so, but he could not risk Solveig with a petty show of defiance. Jaron seemed pleased with the effect, but still didn't leave.

"The point of this conversation is that I was thinking of upping the stakes for your return," Jaron told him conversationally. "Perhaps for the Arkenstone itself."

"You're welcome to it," Thorin told him bitterly.

Jaron smiled. "I do hope your grandfather will have the same opinion. For both your sakes." He stood up. "Get some rest. We leave early."

He strode back over to the fire, calling out something to his men that Thorin didn't listen too. He slumped back to the ground, feeling chilled and exhausted. Solveig looked down at him.

"Thorin, do you think your grandfather will give up the Arkenstone for us?" she asked quietly, hesitantly.

Thorin met her eyes. "Yes. I know him. He would not value it above anyone's life."

She smiled a bit sadly and stroked his brow, frowning. "You feel warm. I think you're getting a fever."

Thorin shrugged, too tired to worry about it at the moment and pulled her down with him. "Let's try and sleep; I'm too tired to think about anything else right now."

She settled her head against his shoulder and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him. Her body pressed against his was a comforting warmth and presence. He wanted to fall asleep like this every night, but if things went badly, and this was the last time he got to do so, then he might as well allow himself this one memory to keep. He leaned forward and kissed her brow and rested his chin on top of her head, feeling her soft breath in the hollow of his throat. Despite their situation, he was so comforted by her presence, that he was somehow able to drift off to sleep.

The next morning, he woke groggy and half delirious with sleep and a fever that had only gotten worse, to a kick in his back. He moaned.

"Get up, we're leaving," one of Jaron's men said and hauled Thorin into a sitting position, making him gasp as his leg was jostled. It had been a dull ache, but was now a sharp pain, pulsing with fever with every heartbeat. His arms were forced behind his back and tied. Solveig was trussed likewise, and they were both hauled to their feet. Thorin bit back a scream of pain, and was practically dragged over to the horses that the outlaws were mounting up on for the journey. Jaron came over to them with a grin on his face.

"It's been a pleasure having you two here," he said with a slight bow. "I will miss your company, I'm sure. But the gold is more welcome, and the Arkenstone; why, that is a prize worth any sacrifice." The dreamy, lustful look in his eye faded only slightly as he shook his head and motioned to the men. "Put them on one horse and make sure they are tied properly. Don't want them escaping now."

Thorin and Solveig were secured to one of the outlaw's horses and one of the men took the lead rope behind him to keep them on track. Jaron mounted up and turned to grin at his men.

"Let's go make our fortunes, gentlemen."

* * *

_Frerin woke after a fitful sleep_ and dressed quickly. It was still dark out, but he couldn't' stay in bed another minute. He left Dis sleeping and hoped she would not wake up before Thorin and Solveig were brought back and the exchange was made. It should only be a couple more hours now. Frerin simply found himself pacing, not knowing what to do. He should probably try to eat breakfast; he had hardly eaten anything in the past couple days, but he felt so sick to his stomach, he knew it would likely just come back up. He just wanted Thorin back.

Eventually he was joined in the hall by his father and, surprisingly, his grandfather. Then Hroth and Balin and Dwalin and Gloin and Oin and Beric and several other of the commanders and lieutenants.

Thrain looked out at them and finally started to speak. "We're going to go to the exchange just like they said and proceed without any complications or deviations to the rules. However, we will not give up the gold before we have proof that Thorin and Solveig are…are at least alive." He hesitated slightly and Frerin winced at that hesitation. "We are simply going to do everything we can to make sure the exchange goes smoothly and everyone is safe." He gave them all a meaningful look. "After the exchange takes place, we will go back to hunting the outlaws with the full intent of making sure nothing like this ever happens again."

There were murmurs of agreement, and Frerin and Dwalin exchanged a glance. They knew they would be there making Jaron and his band pay with their lives for what they did when the time came.

A guard appeared in the room then, bowing to Thror. "My lord, they are approaching."

Thror nodded and turned to Thrain. "Good, let us go and see to this."

"Are you sure you want to come, Father?" Thrain asked quietly and Frerin turned to watch the scene, seeing the pain and sadness in his grandfather's eyes.

"Yes, my son. I will not abandon Thorin. I will go out there and act as it is my duty to act. No more hiding in bed. I am sick of it. I believe I feel well enough today."

Frerin wasn't entirely sure. He was afraid of what would happen when Thror watched them hand over the gold. But hopefully the return of Thorin would help that to not be an issue this time. If they could only get through the exchange, that would be something at least.

"Come then, let's go," Hroth snapped. "And then we shall have words with both our children."

Frerin wanted to say something about that, but didn't dare. He followed his father, grandfather and Hroth to the entrance of the mountain. They gathered out there as they had before. Frerin stood behind his father and grandfather, Dwalin and Balin beside him. He could see Jaron approaching, but could not see Thorin or Solveig. His hands were clasped in front of him and he wrung his signet ring around his finger nervously. Dwalin reached out and squeezed his shoulder in reassurance, and Frerin did his best to steel himself for what was to come.

Jaron and his company of bandits came up within hearing distance and smiled his cocky grin. Hroth stepped forward immediately.

"Where's my daughter, you bastard?" he snarled, and Thrain had to reach out to grab him back before he threw himself at the bandit leader and ruined all their chances of a decent trade.

Jaron laughed, only making the situation worse. "Oh, don't worry, your majesty, I haven't done anything to her. I'm afraid I can't say the same for the Prince however. It was quite a, shall we say, compromising position I found them in when I captured them."

Hroth was furious and Frerin winced at the things coming out of his mouth both directed toward the bandit and Thorin. Thrain finally managed to haul him back and growled something in is ear before he turned to Jaron.

"We have collected the payment you asked," he said. "We will give it to you as soon as we see that the prince and princess are alive and well."

"Ah, here's the thing," Jaron said, and Frerin felt a sick twist enter his stomach. Jaron dismounted his horse and stepped forward to stand several yards away from the royalty of Erebor. "I got to thinking last night, had a chat with Prince Thorin. We decided that because this is particularly precious cargo, maybe a little sweetener should be involved. Something more than just three carts of simple gold."

"Just tell us what you want," Thrain growled low at him. "We will give you anything you ask as long as you return the hostages."

Jaron cast a glance at Thror this time, a sly look crossing his face. "Even the Arkenstone itself?"

A hush fell across the gathered dwarves. Even Hroth shut up. Frerin's breath caught in his throat and he looked in shock and horror at his father and grandfather.

"The—the Arkenstone?" Thrain asked, as if he didn't believe what the man had just asked. "You must jest."

"I am dead serious, and dead is what your dear prince and princess will be if you do not hand it over."

"It is the status of our sovereignty," Thrain said. "There are many other jewels, more precious to the likes of men than that, surely you would prefer…"

"Are you bargaining with your son's life, Prince Thrain?" Jaron snapped.

"Thrain," Hroth growled.

"Father," Frerin started, but Thror cut them all off.

"You cannot have the Arkenstone!" there was a frantic note in his voice and everyone turned to look, Jaron included. Frerin's breath caught in his throat again. Not now, no, please not now.

"Father," Thrain said softly, taking the king's elbow. "If this is our only chance…"

"You shall not have it!" Thror said to Jaron firmly, shaking his fist. "It is mine and you shall not have it! Nor any of it!"

Jaron seemed pleased by this. "Then I shall keep the hostages."

"No!" Hroth growled, turning helplessly to Thrain. "You cannot let this happen!"

"Father!" Thrain pleaded with Thror who was struggling away from him. "You cannot let him keep Thorin and Solveig. You must agree!"

"No, he can't take it from me!" Thror said, and ripped away from him, running off into the mountain. Oin and Gloin went after him at a nod from Thrain before he turned back to Jaron who was grinning gleefully at the scene.

"Surely there is some sort of deal we can make. I shall get the stone for you or others, more gold, anything." Thrain was pleading. Frerin had never heard his father plead in his life.

Jaron was mounting his horse again. "Prince Thrain, it appears that you have other duties to see to at the present moment. I'll tell you what. I'll give you one more day, and I'll be back tomorrow. If you fail to give me the stone then along with the carts of gold, then I shall give you back your prince and princess—in pieces." He turned his horse around and Hroth shouted after him as Thrain stood dumb, unable to speak.

"How could you ruin this?" Hroth screamed, turning on Thrain as he stared at Jaron's retreating figure. "You probably just cost us our children's lives! Do you not see that? Do you not care?"

Thrain ignored him and spun around on his heel, going back into the mountain. They all followed, Frerin trying to keep up with his father. He was horrified, and still trying to process what had happened. How did they not have Thorin and Solveig with them? He had been so sure it would all go well. So sure.

"Father!" he cried finally.

"Frerin, now is not the time," Thrain snapped in no uncertain terms.

Frerin swallowed hard but kept following him nonetheless to the throne room where Thror could be heard yelling to everyone that would listen that he would never give up the Arkenstone. Thrain was still ignoring Hroth's unceasing rants and flung back the doors to the throne room and strode up to the dais with the throne on it. Thror was standing in the seat of it with his axe drawn, protecting the Arkenstone that resided in the back. Thrain went right up to him and grabbed the axe, jerking Thror down from the throne in the process and shook him until his teeth chattered.

"This isn't you, Father!" he cried. "This is not you! You would never give up Thorin for a gem of any worth, and I know that! So you will either give it to me or I shall take it myself, because I am not going to lose my eldest son for your sake in your petty greed!"

Thror was still under the spell of the gold sickness and he growled at Thrain. "You do not know what you speak of, boy! The Arkenstone is what makes us kings. Without that we are nothing! It is mine, and you shall not have it, nor shall anyone else! Now get back!"

Thrain, surprisingly, stepped back, shoving his father so hard he fell back against the throne. "Fine," Thrain said, turning around. "There's another way to do this, if you're too cowardly to save your own grandson." He turned to Beric and called out to him. "Have my horse readied. We ride now. If we cannot trade with the outlaws. We are going to damn well kill them all." He turned back to Thror. "And if anything has happened to Thorin or Solveig, let their blood be on your head, Father."

Frerin was still in a state of shock from what he had just witnessed, but he soon snapped out of it. He ran to his father. "We-we're going to stop Jaron?" he asked.

Thrain looked down at him. "Yes."

"I'm coming," Frerin told him firmly.

Thrain nodded, but said nothing more. Frerin looked back at Dwalin and the two hurried after the other warriors to the stables. Finally, it seemed that they would be doing something that might actually help. Frerin felt a huge amount of relief at the thought of action.

"Hang on, brother," he muttered to himself as he jogged along to the stables. "We're coming."

* * *

_Thorin wasn't entirely sure_ what had happened. They had been kept back from the meeting, out of hearing distance, but he could still see what was happening and he clearly saw the argument that occurred, and there was certainly no exchange of gold for him and Solveig. And then he heard Hroth yelling, though couldn't quite make out the words and then Jaron was riding back toward them and he could see his grandfather in the distance running back to the mountain.

_No,_ Thorin thought, his breath catching with a sudden horrible feeling of abandonment. _No, no, no…_

Jaron came back to them with a smug grin on his face. He affected a pout as he looked over at Thorin and Solveig.

"Sorry, my friends, it looks like you'll be staying with me a little longer. It seems that you're not so loved after all. Grandpa threw a huge fit when he heard what I wanted for you. I guess you're just not worth it."

Thorin glared at him, but he couldn't think of anything to say. What could he say to that? He was hurt. He knew that his grandfather wasn't in his right mind, but still, his and Solveig's plight had not done a thing to penetrate the muddle of gold sickness. And his father hadn't done anything about it either. He hung his head, feeling defeated, and so tired with the pain of his wound, only made worse from his position on the horse, and his fever that continued to grow worse.

Jaron chuckled. "What's this? Prince Thorin has lost all hope? Cheer up, I gave them one more day. Who knows? Maybe they'll come through, and if not, well, I might sell you into slavery instead of killing you. I'm sure someone will pay a good price to own a dwarven prince to serve their wine and a princess to warm their beds."

Thorin didn't even grace him with a glare. He slumped further in the saddle and Jaron shrugged and motioned for the men to move out. As they road, Thorin felt Solveig lean against his back and her lips brushed gently behind his ear.

"Don't worry, it will be all right," she whispered to him. "I have cut my ropes."

It took Thorin a moment to register what she had said, but when it did, he frowned and nearly turned around, but she stopped him. "Shh, hold on and I'll cut yours. They didn't search me and I was able to retrieve my dagger when we were waiting. We'll find a chance to slip away when we pass the river. We're in the back and if we're careful we might be able to make it."

"I can't with this leg," Thorin told her. "Please. You have to go, Solveig. Don't worry about me."

"I don't want to leave without you, Thorin," she insisted.

Thorin smiled, but decided to humor her. At least up to the point of their actual escape. Then he would refuse to move. He knew well enough that she would have no chance with him, and she knew it too, he was sure. If he forced her hand he could get her to go. Then she could maybe tell them where the camp was, and they could come rescue him as well. But not until she was safe. He would never rest until then.

He felt a tug as the ropes that bound his hands, and felt her sawing through them. He watched the horsemen to make sure they were not looking and suddenly felt the ropes give. He quickly pulled his hands around to rub feeling into them, sighing in relief.

"Hoi!"

He turned to see one of the men hanging back and tried to tuck his hands back around behind him but it was too late. The man had already seen.

Everyone stopped and in the confusion, Thorin shoved himself off the horse and fell with a jarring motion, screaming in pain even as he waved Solveig to go.

"Run!" he shouted at her.

The whole group burst into confusion. Solveig kicked the horse, but forgot the lead rope, which startled the other horse that it was tied to. The rider spilled from the saddle with a curse and the horse reared and kicked. Thorin, who was in the path of the beast, caught a glancing blow from a flailing hoof to the side of the head. Stars exploded in his vision, and he was thrown backwards against the truck on a tree, jarring his entire body, before he fell limply to the ground, only partly conscious.

He tried to drag himself from the darkness. His body was leaden, and he was totally unable to move as he heard Jaron shouting and Solveig's angry scream.

"Got her, Jaron!" someone called, accompanied by more of Solveig's screaming and cursing.

"Keep hold of her!" Jaron snapped. "Someone get Thorin."

Someone strode over to Thorin and he wanted to move, even open his eyes, but couldn't do anything. He was only vaguely aware of the fact that he was in danger, and someone he loved was in even more danger. Someone grabbed him by the front of the tunic and shook him slightly and his head exploded in more pain. A hand gripped his chin, turned his head and let him slump down onto the ground again.

"I think the horse did him in, Jaron," the man said and kicked Thorin in the side as if the emphasize it.

_No_, Thorin cried in his mind, trying to force the words out of his mouth. _I'm not dead! I'm not!_ He didn't want to be separated from Solveig even if it meant staying in the hands of the bandits. He didn't know what they would do to her now if he wasn't there to protect her. He couldn't leave her alone with these men.

"Leave him then, let's get out of here," Jaron's voice came, sounded even farther away than it had before. "We don't need him. No one has to know he's not with us until they hand over the gold and the stone."

_No!_ Thorin heard them mounting up, someone was sobbing, screaming. Solveig? Thorin wanted to get up and go to her. Comfort her and hold her in his arms, but he couldn't move and he was fast losing all ability to think as well. The darkness was folding him in and he was too weak to resist it any longer.


	11. Chapter 11

**As promised, here's the next chapter! I hope you are all still enjoying it :) This one is kind of a filler chapter, but the next one will pick up with the action again full force, so don't worry! Hope everyone is having a good weekend so far!**

Chapter Eleven

Frerin mounted his horse and watched as his father did the same; angry, regal, and having the look of an avenger more than a prince of Erebor. Hroth was finally beginning to look placated now that they were going after the bandits. Frerin just hoped nothing bad would befall Thorin and Solveig before they got to them.

"Let's go," Thrain said shortly, and they all moved out at a steady pace. Frerin looked over to Dwalin who was riding beside him and they shared a look. They would make sure the bandits paid for what they had done to Thorin and Solveig.

They rode off into the woods, following the trail of the outlaws' retreat and once there, Thrain ordered them to split up, wanting to make sure they didn't miss anything.

Frerin, Dwalin and Balin went off together and slowed their horses to look for signs.

Frerin was still trying to figure out why the negotiations had gone so wrong. He knew _why_ of course, but he couldn't believe it. He had just been so sure that Thorin and Solveig would have been back in the mountain and safe by then. How could his grandfather have been so cavalier as to refuse the Arkenstone? If Jaron hadn't been a better businessman, he might have very well murdered Thorin or Solveig or both on the spot just for spite. Again, he berated himself. Yes, it was the gold sickness speaking, not his grandfather, but first he had watched him beat Thorin, and now he had pretty much watched him choose an inanimate object over his grandson and a princess who's death on their watch could cause major wars between the dwarf kingdoms. A chill ran through Frerin as he thought of that. For the first time, he realized just how bad the gold sickness was. It wasn't just about the unrest it caused in their family; it was also a detriment to their entire kingdom. Greed could very well end up ruining them all in the end.

"Are you all right, laddie?"

Frerin started and turned to see Balin's concerned look. He nodded jerkily. "I'll be fine. Better when we find them."

"I know, Frerin, but do not give up hope. And don't blame your grandfather. You know he can't help it."

Frerin was suddenly very angry. He clenched the reins in his hands, and snapped at the older dwarf. "Everyone keeps telling me not to blame him, but it's undeniably his fault. Everything bad that has happened recently, has been his fault! Just because he doesn't realize what he's doing, shouldn't be an excuse. Some actions are just always unforgiveable, and hurting family is one of them!"

Balin sighed and tried to calm the young dwarf. "Frerin, I know how you feel, but you have to understand…"

"I understand enough!" Frerin snapped rudely. He hated himself for saying it, but it was what had been on his mind for a long time. He loved his grandfather, but this new man was hardly his grandfather anymore, and he didn't know what to do. He felt hot tears slide down his cheeks and angrily reached up to dash them away. He just wanted Thorin back. He needed his big brother now more than ever. He didn't want to admit it, but he felt the trust was that he was still too young to handle this by himself.

"Stop!" Dwalin called and they halted. He leapt down from his horse and bent to retrieve something from the ground.

"What is it?" Frerin asked in anticipation, pushing away his other troubles for a minute. Their priority now was finding Thorin and Solveig, he reminded himself.

Dwalin straightened and turned around, holding up a slim, delicate dagger.

"That's Solveig's, I saw her cutting an apple with it for Dis the other day!" Frerin cried, reaching out to inspect the dagger. He looked down and caught sight of a length of rope. He pointed. "Dwalin, look! Do you think…?" he didn't dare say it. They all knew what he was thinking though, and immediately began to cast around the area.

"I will go alert your father to what we found, Frerin," Balin said and rode off as Frerin and Dwalin continued the search, looking for tracks.

Dwalin groaned in frustration. "There's so much churned up by horse hooves, it's hard to see…wait, what's that?"

They looked over and saw something peeking out from behind a tree. The breath caught in Frerin's throat and he was instantly flinging himself off of his horse and running to the spot. Dwalin was close on his heels. Frerin reached the area first and cried out in joy and fear at the same time.

"Thorin! Oh, Mahal!" He flung himself beside his brother's prone form, and gathered his upper body into his arms, trying to see if there was still life in him. Dwalin was at his side in an instant, gasping.

"Thorin! Is he all right?" He was pressing his fingers to the pulse on Thorin's neck as Frerin rocked him back and forth worriedly. "He's alive. Wounded though."

Frerin took in the bloody bruise on the side of his head that was still bleeding sluggishly, and quickly scanned the rest of Thorin's body and found the bloody bandage wrapped around his thigh. He touched it gently, trying to ascertain the damage when he felt Thorin jerk in his arms and groan. He spun back around and cupped a hand to his brother's cheek, willing him to open his eyes.

"Thorin, Thorin are you all right? It's me, brother, it's Frerin! Please wake up!"

Thorin's eyes fluttered slightly and Frerin clutched him tighter, coaxing him to wake up. Thorin's eyes roved unseeingly for a few seconds before he settled blearily on Frerin.

"F-Frer?" he whispered.

"Yes, Dwalin and I are here, we found you!" Frerin said. Dwalin gripped one of Thorin's hands in his to let him know he was there as well. Thorin seemed too weak to say anything else, then his eyes suddenly opened wider and he cast a frantic gaze around them. He reached up to clutch Frerin's tunic weakly, looking as if he wanted to get up.

"Wh-where's S-Solveig?" he gasped out.

Frerin and Dwalin exchanged a glance, not sure whether they should lie or tell the truth, and which would be worse. In actuality, they didn't know the truth. Maybe Solveig was free too, but they had gotten separated. Maybe she was on her way back to Erebor herself, having to leave a wounded Thorin to go for help. It wouldn't be a good idea to tell Thorin she might possibly still be Jaron's captive if she was in fact, not. Frerin knew his brother better than that to know that would be a bad idea.

Thankfully, they didn't have to say anything because there was the sound of approaching hooves, and Frerin looked up to see his father and Balin approaching with several others. Dwalin stood up and waved them over.

"Here! We found Thorin!"

Thrain was over like an arrow from a bow, flinging himself from his horse and running over to the small group. He fell to his knees with a cry of joy and relief and nearly tore Thorin from Frerin's grasp, holding him to his chest.

"Oh my son, my son, thank Mahal!" he cried. Frerin was shocked to see tears streaming down his cheeks. He had never seen his father cry.

"Father," Thorin whispered faintly and leaned into the embrace. It was uncommon, but welcome. So very welcome. He clutched his father's tunic and pressed his face under his chin.

"Thorin," Thrain cried again, and bent to kiss his forehead, smoothing the hair away from his wound before he pulled him tightly to him again. "Come, let's get you home."

He stood, nearly staggering under Thorin's weight as he lifted him, and Frerin and Dwalin went to help him, but Thrain shook his head. "No. No it's all right. I have him. He's my son, and I should damn well be able to bear his weight."

Frerin didn't even complain at being separated from his brother. He was warmed by the obvious affection Thrain was showing, and he realized just how scared he must have been. How he too had thought they might have lost Thorin forever. Frerin would have his brother soon enough, but he knew he should let his father have him now. Be the one to bring him back home.

Dwalin's hand was on his shoulder, pulling him back. "You go, I'll stay out here with the others and we'll continue the search for Solveig."

Frerin nodded and left with his father and several others while the search continued.

Thorin was unconscious the whole way back, and they instilled him into his room instantly upon returning to the mountain where Oin saw to his wounds. Frerin stood off to one side, watching anxiously. He wanted to sit next to Thorin, but he knew it was best to stay out of Oin's way, and his father was already there.

"The arrowhead is still in his leg; it looks like someone snapped it off," Oin told them grimly. "I'll have to cut it out. We should do it before he wakes. Until then, I won't be able to do anything for his fever. I'm afraid infection might have started in the wound."

"Do what you have to," Thrain said, even while Frerin flinched at the thought of Oin cutting the arrowhead out of his brother's leg. Oin turned to the younger brother.

"I'm going to need your help holding him down," he said.

Frerin nodded. He hated this task, but it certainly wasn't the first time he had been employed such, and it would really only be returning the favor for all the times Thorin had sat with him during Oin's ministrations. They had certainly had many mishaps over the years, some worse than others.

Frerin sat on the side of the bed and pushed down on Thorin's shoulders. He didn't watch Oin cut the arrowhead out. It was enough to watch Thorin's face tense in agony, and feel his body arch and stiffen. He screamed several times, though he didn't wake, and Frerin was shaking by the time it was finished, whispering nonsense to reassure his older brother. Thrain was washing the sweat from Thorin, but he suddenly put a hand over Frerin's still resting on Thorin's chest and the younger dwarf started. He looked up to see his father's eyes full of concern. Something Frerin had rarely, if ever, seen there.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly.

Frerin didn't know what to say. "I don't really know," he whispered.

Thrain gave a small sigh and reached up to gently, almost hesitantly, touch his cheek. "Everything will be all right, son." He said with a slight nod. "I will make it so."

Frerin leaned into his father's hand and closed his eyes for a moment before he felt it pulled away. Thrain stood up and turned to Oin. "I should go see to my father. Frerin, stay with your brother. He will want you when he wakes."

Frerin nodded and moved to pull a chair up to the bed. Before he sat, he finished washing the sweat from Thorin's chest and placed the wet cloth on his forehead to help bring down the fever. Then he pulled the blankets around him and settled into the chair, clasping one of Thorin's hands in his and pressing it against his cheek.

"I'm so sorry, Thorin. About everything," Frerin whispered to him. "I just…I don't know what to do anymore. I need you to help me. And we'll find Solveig too. Don't worry."

Thorin moaned slightly and Frerin thought he might wake up, but he didn't. He sighed and leaned against the bed, wondering how everything had gone so wrong so quickly.

He sat up when the door opened, expecting Oin again or his father but it was Brenna with Dis, the young dwarfmaid looking worried and clutching her nurse's hand.

"I'm sorry, my lord Frerin," Brenna said to the young prince. "She heard that Prince Thorin had been injured and she wanted to visit. I hope it's not a bad time."

"No, come here, Dis," Frerin said eagerly, beckoning to his little sister, oddly glad she had come. It always seemed easier to stay strong when you had someone to stay strong for.

Dis ran to him with a sob and flung herself into his arms. Brenna told him she would be back later and Frerin nodded.

"What happened to Thorin?" Dis asked as Frerin pulled her into his lap. "How did he get hurt?"

Frerin sighed and cuddled her close as she looked at Thorin's still frame with worried tears sliding down her cheeks. "He got hurt by some bad men in the woods," he explained. "You'll have to help me take care of him and make him feel better."

Dis sniffed. "Is he going to die like Mother?"

"No, sweetheart," Frerin told her, wiping her tears away. "Mother was…she was very sick with something that couldn't be fixed. Thorin just got hurt a little. He needs a little rest and then he'll be fine."

"I want Solveig, she hasn't come to play with me for days," Dis sniffed into Frerin's tunic.

Frerin closed his eyes, wondering how to explain the situation so as not to frighten the little girl further. "Solveig is in a bit of trouble right now, but everyone is out to look for her and we'll bring her back home soon."

Dis looked at him with a frown. "By the same bad men who hurt Thorin?" she asked worriedly.

Frerin reluctantly nodded. "Yes, but don't worry, we'll get her back. She might be on her way here right now, then she can help us take care of Thorin." He forced a smile, stroking her hair fondly, trying to make the atmosphere lighter. He knew Thorin wouldn't have lied to her though, so he didn't either. "Why don't you go back to Brenna for now, Dis. Maybe you can draw Thorin a picture to make him better? Then you can come sit with him again later."

"Okay," Dis said and leaned over to kiss Thorin's fevered cheek before running out of the room.

After she left Frerin sighed heavily, feeling a sudden exhaustion overwhelming him. He leaned forward and took Thorin's hand once more and rested against the bed, his head on his brother's shoulder as he closed his eyes and finally fell into a deep sleep for the first time in days.

* * *

_Thorin woke to a familiar _feeling place. He opened his eyes and saw the comfortable surroundings of his own room. For a moment he couldn't remember anything about what happened. He just felt tired, hurt, and decided he must be sick. He reached up and took the cloth from his forehead. Yes, fever.

He looked over, seeing Frerin resting half on a chair, with his head against his shoulder and one of Thorin's hands clutched tightly in his. He was stirring now, from Thorin's movement, and looked up blearily at his older brother, his tired eyes brightening instantly with a relieved smile when he saw him awake.

"Thorin!" He unceremoniously threw himself at his brother and wrapped his arms around his neck. Thorin folded him in a tight hug as he felt his little brother's tears seep down his neck.

"I thought I'd never see you again," Frerin wept, his voice muffled slightly against Thorin. "After everything that happened, and after what I said to you before you left…I am so sorry! I never meant it, Thorin!"

Thorin pushed him back, trying to make sense of it all, his brain still muddled, and his head aching. "Frer, It's all right. I forgive you. I…" Suddenly the pieces came back together, and he shot up, his body protesting so much that he cried out in pain, even as he yelled, "Solveig! Oh Mahal, that bastard Jaron has her!" He would have gotten up then had Frerin not pressed him back and nearly sat on him to keep him in the bed.

"Thorin, you can't get up, you're hurt! You won't even be able to stand!" Frerin pleaded.

Thorin stayed still, but his hands clasped in Frerin's tunic and he shook him slightly. "Did you find Solveig? Please tell me you have found her?"

"They're still out looking for her, she was not with you," Frerin told him as gently as possible. "I am sure they will be back with her soon."

Thorin closed his eyes and lay back on his pillow, breathing heavily, trying to get a hold of his emotions. Solveig…after what they did, trying to escape, how on earth could he expect Jaron to not harm her now in punishment? He would never forgive himself if something happened to her. How could this have all gone so wrong?

"I have to find her," he said miserably.

"I know, Thorin, I promise we'll get her back," Frerin said as reassuringly as possible, but he was worried too. It was nearly dark now, and the patrol wasn't back yet. He knew someone would have come to tell him if they were. Dwalin certainly would have come to see Thorin.

As if on cue, sounds started coming from the hall and there was a short knock on the door before it opened and Dwalin entered, exhaustion clear on his face that was lifted a bit as he saw Thorin awake.

"Thorin! By my beard, it's good to see you awake at least!" He strode over and clasped Thorin's hand tightly.

"Dwalin," Thorin urged, trying to sit up again. "Solveig, did you find her?"

Dwalin sighed deeply and shook his head. "No, Thorin. I'm sorry. We have searched all day, and we can't find her anywhere. Did she escape? We thought she might have gone to ground somewhere."

"No! she's still with Jaron!" Thorin screamed, his hand fisting in Dwalin's tunic as he shook him. "We have to get her back before he does anything to her!" He was using Dwalin to pull himself up, but his friend took his shoulders in a firm grip and forced him back into the bed, holding him down as he continued to struggle weakly. Thorin snarled up at him as he tore at his hands.

"Get off me, Dwalin, I need to go now!" he growled.

"You wouldn't get far," Dwalin said.

"I know where the camp is!" Thorin insisted. "I can get there and back myself; just get me a few men…"

"Thorin," Dwalin said firmly. "Please stop."

Thorin finally slumped back onto the bed, tears streaming down his face. A sob caught in his throat. Dwalin sighed and pulled his friend against his shoulder, holding onto him tightly.

"I'm sorry Thorin. I'm so sorry," he said.

Thorin eventually seemed to run out of energy and Dwalin laid him back down on the bed and rearranged his covers. He shared a glance with Frerin who stared back at him with a defeated look.

It was then that another commotion came from the hall and Thorin started awake while Dwalin and Frerin turned to look, Dwalin standing up and posing as if expecting a threat.

"I don't care if he's _dying_, he will damn well see me, and that's that!" a voice hollered down the hall, followed by other angry protests, that seemed to go unheeded because the door was suddenly flung open and in strode King Hroth in all his fury.

"Your majesty, Prince Thorin is ill," Dwalin tried, stepping up to stop the king, but Hroth shoved the young dwarf roughly aside and did the same to Frerin who had come to his brother's aid, going straight over to Thorin's bed, and gripping the front of his nightshirt, jerking the wounded dwarf from the bed.

"How dare you?!" he screamed, shaking Thorin so much his head snapped back and forth and made it hurt worse. "How dare you take my daughter out and allow her to be captured by bandits and then dare come back before her?! I will have your head! I'll skin you alive!"

"I didn't allow anything to happen!" Thorin snarled, trying to force the king's hands from his shirt, but only succeeding in ripping it. "I would die before I let anything happen to Solveig!"

"Then by all rights you should be dead!" Hroth shouted, pulling Thorin even closer to him.

"If you would take your hands off me, I would go right now to get her back!" Thorin told him.

"You expect me to believe the petty words of a rake like you? Is that how you charmed my daughter into a tryst with you?"

"I love your daughter!" Thorin shouted.

"Well, you have a funny way of showing it!" Hroth screamed and flung Thorin onto the floor.

Frerin tried to rush to his aid, but Hroth shoved him back so hard, he fell against the chair and tipped it over backwards. Thorin huddled on the floor, trying to gain his feet, but didn't get the chance before Hroth was on him again, dragging him to his knees. Thorin gritted his teeth as his wound burned and felt the warm blood seeping through the bandage fresh bandage. He was vaguely aware of Dwalin running out of the room.

"I will teach you a lesson, boy," Hroth told him through clenched teeth, raising a hand to strike the young dwarf. But it never landed, hanging frozen in midair.

"Get your hands off my son."

Thorin looked over Hroth's shoulder to see his father, hand wrapped tightly around the dwarf king's wrist and an expression of righteous anger on his face. He squeezed threateningly, and Hroth winced, carefully letting Thorin go. Thorin slumped back slightly, finding a more comfortable position where his leg didn't hurt so much. Thrain let go of Hroth and shoved him to one side before bending and helping Thorin up, allowing him to lean on him.

"Are you all right, son?" he asked gently.

Thorin was shocked at his father's voice, but suddenly remembered flashes of his rescue in the woods, how his father had held him with relief, kissing him on the forehead like he hadn't done since before Thorin's mother had died. How he had carried Thorin with him on his horse all the way back to Erebor. Thorin felt a sudden ache in his chest. All this time in the last several months he had accused his father of not caring, of hardly even noticing him, but he knew it was still there; the love he had for him and had shown a long time ago. It was just hard; everything was hard for all of them right now. He felt terrible for not realizing it before.

"I'm fine, Father," he said. "But we need to find Solveig now. And I'm going with you."

"Thorin, no," Thrain told him firmly.

"Yes, Father," Thorin replied sternly. Thrain looked taken aback, so he continued. "She was lost on my watch, not yours, not King Hroth's. And she is my responsibility. I love her more than anything, and I will get her back if it's the last thing I do. If I can prove my love for her to everyone in no other way, I will do it like it."

They all stared at him for a moment, and Thrain seemed to see that he was going to be unable to change his mind. He sighed.

"Very well, I know you are just as stubborn as your father." Something very akin a small smile flickered over his lips. "But if you cannot sit a horse by yourself, you are coming straight back here."

"Understood," Thorin turned to nod to Frerin and Dwalin. "Help me dress and get a weapon. We leave immediately."


	12. Chapter 12

**Here's the next chapter! Thorin is going out to the rescue! I'm hoping to get another chapter up this weekend so keep an eye out. I still need to write it...but I should be able to finish it if everything goes well :) In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this one! Hope everyone has a good weekend!**

Chapter Twelve

Thorin was barely able to sit his pony, but he kept it to himself, determined to stay on or die trying. His leg was aching, but Oin had given him something for the pain and it helped a little bit. His fever wasn't as bad as it had been, but it wouldn't have stopped him going even if he had been delirious. He caught Dwalin and Frerin watching him closely and tried to ignore them. They would worry, but he didn't have time for that. Solveig was in grave danger, he knew that, and he was going to make sure she got away from Jaron as soon as possible. No more waiting around while he stayed in bed and the others bumbled around the woods. Thorin would find her if it was the last thing he did.

After a lot of persuasion, it was decided that King Hroth and Thrain would stay back in Erebor. Hroth had not been happy, but Balin and Thorin both had insisted and Thrain eventually backed them up. Hroth looked like he would tear Thorin up, but Balin assured him that they would all see to it that Solveig was returned safe and sound, and that it would do no good charging around in a vengeful haze. However, Hroth made it very clear that he was not happy about Thorin going when he was not. Thorin didn't care what he thought. It had been his fault Solveig was in danger right now and he was going to rescue her himself.

They rode out as soon as possible and Thorin forced himself to concentrate on the road ahead of them. They had never blindfolded him and Solveig, obviously realizing they wouldn't be able to escape, what with Thorin's leg, and so he had studied the trail to the outlaw's camp. He had always been terrible at navigating, but this time he knew he had to find it or else Solveig could die, so he forced himself to remember every tree and rock that they encountered, and he fought his way to finding the right turns.

While they rode, he thought about everything that had happened. Most of all the fact that his grandfather had left them with Jaron for the sake of keeping the Arkenstone. Thorin had been so certain that he would have given it up for them; he had promised Solveig as much, but it appeared the gold sickness had reared its ugly head again at just the wrong moment. He didn't know what to think of it or what he was even _supposed_ to think of it. Whether his grandfather really meant it or not, it was still betrayal and Thorin was hurt by it and didn't feel unjustified in that hurt.

On the other hand, there was this newfound caring he had seen from his father. Thorin had not seen him show that much caring and emotion to himself and his siblings since before their mother had died. He knew it had hurt his father greatly, and that grief could do such horrible things to a person, so he had never really faulted his father for his seeming indifference even if it could cause hurt and confusion on occasion. But with all the things going on lately with his grandfather's illness, perhaps Thrain was coming around again, realizing that if he lost the last of the family he still had, it would ruin him for good. Thorin could understand that, and he felt a new respect and pity for his father, having to go through this too, but yet somehow managing to stay strong through all of it.

"How are you doing, Thorin?" Frerin asked him quietly as he came up to flank Thorin while they cantered through the woods.

"I'll live," he replied tersely.

"We'll find her," Frerin told him.

"Oh, I know we will," Thorin said grimly. "Because I am going to kill Jaron with my bare hands if it's the last thing I do."

Frerin was silent for a long time and then he sighed. "I was so worried when you didn't come home, Thorin. I thought…I thought I had lost you too and I didn't know who I would have then. I was scared. I wasn't ready to take your place."

Thorin looked over at his younger brother and realized with a pang that he had ignored his sufferings thus far while worrying about Solveig. He offered him a very small smile. "I don't believe that, Frerin, but I would never leave you on purpose, you know that."

Frerin nodded and then suddenly blurted, "I never meant anything I said before you left. I'm sorry. I was angry because I was scared and confused about what to think of watching Grandfather…beat you. But it was cruel of me to bring Solveig into this. For what it's worth, Thorin, I like her a lot. We all do, and I think you and her are perfect together, and I hope dearly that that will come to pass one day."

Thorin turned to his brother with warmth filling his heart, wishing he could embrace him at that moment, but settling for a simple smile instead. "Thank you, Frer. That means a lot to me. And don't apologize, there's no reason to, and you were partly right. I had no right to pretend I could run from my troubles as if not thinking about them would make it so they do not exist. But we all learn from our mistakes, and sometimes those lessons can be particularly painful." He set his jaw tightly, worry continuously gnawing into his stomach with anxiety for Solveig's safety. "But I need someone there to tell me when I am getting too cavalier, and I love that you do, Frerin. You do even when Dwalin doesn't and that means a lot to me. Eventually, I will be a king and when I am, I will need you there by my side to act as a wise councilor as I have no doubt you will. I will need you there as much as I will need Solveig to keep me on my feet."

"I'll be there," Frerin assured him earnestly. "And I will do everything I can to make sure that Solveig is too."

"Thank you, brother," Thorin said fondly, touched as he always was by Frerin's love and loyalty to him.

"Thorin," Dwalin came up to them, riding on Thorin's other side. "How much farther?"

"Not long now," the dwarf prince replied, hoping he had been right when they made that last turn. They rode on in silence for a while and then finally, Thorin saw a glow ahead in the woods and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Campfires. It's right up ahead," he told the others and urged his pony forward. They stopped far enough away so that the outlaws wouldn't hear them but they could watch the camp. They could hear faint laughter and see the men sitting around the campfire, obviously drinking in celebration.

Beric came up to speak with Thorin. "My lord, what shall we do now?"

Thorin was still considering it, when he heard a scream coming from the camp and his blood went cold. That was no outlaw.

"We attack," he said instantly. "Surprise them. There is no need to take prisoners."

Beric nodded. "Very well, my lord."

And Thorin was off, his sword in his hand and his heart nearly bursting from his chest, only hoping that he would get there in time to save his Solveig.

* * *

_Solveig had been interred _against the tree again, chained as she had been before, once they got back to the camp. She huddled in a ball, her arms wrapped around her knees as she fought against the oppressing sadness that overwhelmed her. Her face was dirty and streaked in tears and her chest still shuddered with sobs she was trying to quell, but failing. Thorin was dead. They had left him there in the woods, covered in blood. At first, in denial, she thought they might be lying to get her to cooperate, but she had seen well enough the horse strike him, and even if he hadn't been dead at the moment they left, he would be now, stuck out there bleeding to death. She couldn't believe he was gone. She had never expected to love him so much as she did, but she had truly fallen for him in the past weeks they had known each other, and now that he was gone, she felt utterly empty. Missing a piece she didn't even know she'd had before she met Thorin. Something he had put there.

She had hoped to marry him. She thought that maybe he had been going to propose to her that day if Jaron hadn't caught them. The necklace Jaron had taken, that she had seen only a glimpse of—and even that glimpse had been beautiful—she thought might have been a betrothal gift. Now she knew for certain that she would never be able to fall for another. Her father would likely choose another prince to marry her off to, but she knew she would never love him.

That is if she lived that long.

Without Thorin to protect her, she had no idea what would happen to her now. Jaron was supposed to make the trade tomorrow, but she didn't believe for a minute that he wouldn't try something before then. He had already made enough crude suggestions to make her sick, and with all the men drinking, Jaron included, she knew she had little chance of making it until the morning unscathed. Perhaps it was better this way. If Thorin was dead, what did she really have to live for but a long life with a man she didn't love, thinking every day of the one she did? But if she was going to go out that night then she was determined to go out fighting, with her hands if nothing else. She wished she had not lost her dagger in the woods during their botched escape. She would have loved the opportunity to drive it into Jaron's gut.

Jaron himself was coming over to her now, carrying a bottle with him. He looked drunk, but not too drunk to waver and lose ability to hold himself. She straightened up, putting on her cold stare. He pouted at her as he came up.

"What's wrong, Princess? Still sad about our dearly departed prince? I am sorry about that, truly I am, because I would have loved to see what he thought of this." Before she could do anything, he had leaned over and was kissing her disgustingly, his mouth foul and tasting of the harsh liquor. She jerked away from him but she was backed against the tree and could hardly move more than a few inches. He chuckled and grabbed her face to hold her still.

"What's wrong, love? Afraid of a little kiss? I know you're sad about Thorin, but I might be able to cheer you up a bit. Surely you don't think I won't say goodbye to you properly before I let you go tomorrow."

"Get away from me," Solveig snarled at him but it only made him chuckle harder.

"Oh, you'll give me a good time. I like the fiery ones, princess. Why don't we go to my tent and have some fun?"

"You get your hands off me, you bastard," she said sternly, but her heart was pounding. What if he wouldn't stop? Why if she couldn't fight him off? If he unchained her, she might be able to incapacitate him and make a run for it, but how far would she really get before Jaron or any of the other men caught her again?

He smiled and ignored her as he reached for the key to the chains and unlocked her. Her hands were still tied but she struggled as he hauled her to her feet and pressed her against him. He leaned over and she shuddered as she felt his breath on her neck, accompanied by his wet lips as he pressed them behind her ear. "This will be so much easier for you if you come quietly. I don't want to have to hurt you too badly."

She forced her elbow back into his stomach and he doubled over with a soft grunt, nearly losing his grip on her. She stumbled forward, falling onto her hands and knees as she fought to escape him, but he grabbed her around the waist and drug her back against him roughly, his other hand in her hair, hauling her head back so she was looking up at him. He was not smiling anymore, and there was instead, a cruel sneer on his lips.

"You're mine now, sweetheart, and I'm going to do with you as I please." He dragged her to the tent sitting off to one side of the camp and she screamed in anger, hoping that maybe one of the men would have some sort of honor and come to her rescue, but she was only met with laughs and knowing smirks as well as several crude remarks that made her angrier. She fought harder as Jaron attempted to drag her into the tent, but he slapped her hard across the face and she was momentarily stunned. He pulled her inside, and threw her down. She landed on her hands and knees, her bound hands making it hard. She pulled herself around to see Jaron coming towards her, pulling off his jacket and belt that still held Thorin's sword and she shuddered at the leer that spread over his face. He bent over and picked her up again, dragging her over to the cot and throwing her down on her back, and straddling her before she could struggle away. She screamed again and hit him with her bound hands before he took hold of them and forced them above her head, leaning over her, obviously enjoying her helplessness.

"No one's coming for you, so you may as well relax. It's not going to make any difference in the long run."

"I'm not going to stop fighting," she ground out.

He shrugged uncaringly. "Suit yourself then." He leaned over and kissed her roughly, forcing his tongue into her mouth. She jerked her whole body underneath him, causing him to pull back a moment where she took the opportunity to ram her head into his. He cursed and blood spattered her face from his nose. He backhanded her with a curse and tore her dress down the front, exposing her undergarments.

"I warned you not to make this hard," he growled low in his throat. He tied her hands to the cot above her head then groped her body before he began yanking her skirts up. Solveig wanted to sob, but she didn't want to show him how scared she was. She continued to struggle but he was stronger than her and heavy, and she knew she wouldn't be able to fight him off for much longer. She finally closed her eyes and just resigned herself to what was about to happen.

And that was when the yells and sounds of fighting exploded in the camp outside the tent.

* * *

_Thorin knew that the scream_ was Solveig from the way it twisted his guts in knots and made his heart stop. He didn't hesitate a second, only turning to the others to give an order.

"We move now, attack!"

"Thorin, wait!" Balin called after him but Thorin was already off, crashing the rest of the way into the camp, his sword drawn and in his hand, raised high, as he startled the drunken outlaws from their revelry. Some clumsily reached for discarded weapons, but Thorin was on them in an instant, cutting them down. He leapt from his horse to reach them better, his bad leg nearly collapsing under him, but somehow he kept his footing, and ran one outlaw through before he grabbed another, hearing his dwarves coming into the camp now and wreaking havoc among the outlaws.

"Where is she? Where is the princess?!" Thorin screamed at the man he held, shaking him and pressing the blade of his sword firmly against his throat.

"J-Jaron," the man stuttered and vaguely pointed toward the tent off to one side of the camp. Thorin dropped the man who instantly scurried away, and lurched over to the tent, only to see it open and Jaron come striding out with Thorin's own sword held in his hand. His face was angry.

"What the hell is going on?" he demanded, then caught sight of Thorin, and a grin spread over his face. "Well, well, Prince Thorin. What a surprise! Are you really there or are you a vengeful specter?"

"Either way, I'll kill you," Thorin told him in a low cold voice, raising his sword. "Where is Solveig?"

"Oh, we were just having a little fun which you so rudely interrupted," Jaron said with obvious pleasure. "She didn't seem to be enjoying it too much for some reason, but I'm sure she would have come to her senses once I showed her what it was like being with a real man."

"You bastard," Thorin yelled and lunged forward.

Jaron didn't seem to expect that much from him in his injured state, and only barely brought his sword up in time.

"I'm a bit impressed, I'll admit, I was sure you were finished, however, this is good, now I have you once again, and I see your little brother out there as well as some other likely important dwarves. Perhaps King Thror will be willing to part with his stone then. I can only imagine what you have been feeling, Thorin, knowing that your grandfather wouldn't trade the stone for you. I get the feeling there's some serious family issues going on in Erebor."

"Shut up!" Thorin snarled, administering a deep cut to Jaron's thigh. The outlaw staggered back, finally stopping his boasting. Thorin was panting hard. His head ached so bad, he thought he might pass out, and his leg was beyond agony. He could feel the blood running fresh down his leg and pooling in his boot. He had to end this now because he wouldn't last much longer. He pulled himself upright and advanced on Jaron again.

"You are nothing, Jaron," he said. "You have no right to the Arkenstone. It would mean nothing to you. I hate the bloody thing, I do, but I also know what it means to my people, and I don't want to see it in your hands. I would trade it in a heartbeat for those I love, but I would make sure you died soon after."

Jaron laughed at him. "Are you sure you don't want me to take it off your hands? You know, Thorin. I know you do. You know that it is the thing making your grandfather go mad. Wouldn't you rather just have it gone? I can arrange that. You'd never see it or me again."

He swept his sword out in a sudden slice, and it ripped across Thorin's side. He gasped in pain and folded his arm protectively over the wound. No time to be distracted.

"It could save your grandfather's life," Jaron told him.

Thorin was done. In a last effort, he threw himself forward and grabbed Jaron's sword arm so he couldn't move it. "_I _will save my grandfather's life," he said, and drove his sword through Jaron's body.

The outlaw gasped and slumped forward against Thorin, the sword falling from his hand. Thorin shoved him away, and took his own blade up again, then kicked the body out of his way before staggering toward the tent. His dwarves were finishing up the defeat of the camp, and he would rescue his lady.

He threw the tent flaps aside, and saw her flinch back before she registered his frame with a gasp, looking as if she had seen a ghost.

"Solveig," he whispered and staggered the last few steps toward her, tumbling to his knees and cutting her free.

"Th-Thorin?" she asked incredulously. "I-I thought you were dead!" A sob escaped her throat.

"No," he told her gently. He sliced through the ropes that bound her hands and then she was in his arms, and he clutched her tightly, reveling in her soft form pressed against him. She was sobbing and her hot tears were running down his neck. He finally pulled her back and held her face gently between his hands as he looked her over, noticing with growing rage her torn dress and bruised face and lips.

"Did he hurt you, Solveig?" Thorin asked her firmly, his stomach in knots, dreading the answer. "Did he…"

She shook her head. "No, no, you came to my rescue just in time," she laughed weakly, still sobbing and wrapped her arms around his neck again. "I love you."

"I love you too," he whispered, and then kissed her tenderly, brushing the tears from her cheeks. He pulled back and started struggling to his feet. "We need to go, I'm sure you want to get home."

She nodded against his shoulder, sobbing afresh. "Yes, Thorin," she whispered.

He picked her up in his arms as she clung to him. His wounds protested, but he would not let her go, and would certainly not allow anyone else to carry her. He emerged from the tent and Dwalin and Frerin were both nearby and ran to him as soon as they saw him with Solveig.

"Is she all right?" Dwalin asked.

"She's fine," Thorin assured him tiredly but relieved. So happy he could say those words. They tasted sweet on his lips. His own eyes were threating tears now. He caught sight of Frerin's relieved expression, his body relaxing as if he had been a coiled spring. Thorin turned back to Dwalin. "Dwalin, take a few men and ride back to Erebor ahead of us. Tell them we have Solveig, and have prisoners that need to be seen to."

Dwalin nodded and clapped a hand to Thorin's shoulder briefly before turning away. Frerin ran to get Thorin's horse and Thorin looked down at Solveig in his arms, looking half asleep, and shivering. He lifted her onto the horse, his side screaming with pain, and Frerin instantly shed his cloak to wrap around her filthy and torn gown. Thorin wavered and leaned heavily against Torrent's side, wondering if he would have the energy to get into the saddle. Frerin saw, and put a steadying hand on his brother's back.

"Are you going to be all right until we get back?" he asked worriedly. "You're bleeding badly. I could take…"

"No, I'll take her. I-I need to," Thorin told him. He didn't want to have to let Solveig out of his sight ever again, though he knew it would be inevitable when they got back to the mountain. He could at least have her on the way back, safely wrapped in his arms.

Frerin nodded in understanding, but he did insist on helping Thorin into the saddle. Thorin didn't protest; he wasn't sure he could have made it otherwise.

Solveig stirred as he climbed up behind her and he pulled her back against his chest, wrapping his arms around her as he took the reins. She settled against him comfortably and he couldn't resist bowing his head to kiss her hair, breathing in her familiar scent and knowing she was safe. She was safe. He kept repeating it to himself, thanking Mahal it was true.

"Choose a few men to stay with the prisoners," Thorin told Frerin, remembering his duty. "We'll send more men to take them back later. The rest of us leave now."

The dwarves mounted up again and headed off back to Erebor. Solveig was completely asleep in Thorin's arms now, and he wished he could join her. He wanted nothing then but a soft bed and Solveig warm in his arms.

Everyone was waiting for them when they got back to Erebor. Dwalin had called them out, telling them the good news. King Hroth was there, finally more anxious than angry, and pacing around. He started forward instantly as Thorin pulled up Torrent and slid off, nearly falling to the ground as he pulled Solveig into his arms again, only barely feeling her soft form against him before she was torn away by Hroth who ignored him completely as he turned to his daughter, carrying her the rest of the way inside and calling for healers. Thorin felt as if something had been torn from him and he saw Solveig's eyes meet his over her father's shoulder, a longing in them they couldn't satisfy right then.

Thrain rushed over to Thorin soon after, and he was forced to break contact with Solveig, shaking himself as he felt his exhaustion weigh even more heavily. Thrain actually smiled at him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"You did well, my son," was all he said, but those five words made Thorin feel warm inside, and he smiled back.

Frerin was suddenly at his side, slipping an arm around his waist to steady him. "You need to get inside, Thorin, you're hurt, come on."

Thorin nodded, unable to argue, and just barely got through the entrance of the mountain before he collapsed into blissful darkness.


	13. Chapter 13

**Here's the next chapter finally! I'm sorry I didn't finish it in time to be up last weekend, it was being stubborn, but here it is now :) I hope you all enjoy. It's kind of more of a filler chapter but we're nearing the end of the story. I hope everyone has a good weekend! **

Chapter Thirteen

Thorin had to claw his way back to wakefulness. Unconsciousness had such a hold on him, he wasn't sure he wanted to come back out of it, but he also knew he couldn't sleep forever, and so he forced himself awake, as hard as it was. He opened his eyes groggily, just trying to make sense of his surroundings. Finally, he realized that he was in his own room and his own bed. He took a deep breath to try and clear his head and felt his side catch and pull at the movement. He explored the area with one hand and found bandages. Right, he had fought Jaron when he had gone to rescue Solveig. She was all right; that's the only reason he had allowed himself to sleep. The last thing he remembered was coming back and then he must have passed out. But he was missing something now. He was missing Solveig. He had wanted her in his arms when he woke up; that's what he had dreamed.

There was actually someone in the bed with him though, that he finally noticed when his eyes and brain became clearer. Two someones actually. He looked over and saw Frerin sleeping on the other side of his bed with Dis cuddled up against him. Thorin smiled fondly at his younger siblings and reached out to stroke the hair from Dis' soft cheek. She shifted slightly and Frerin started awake, blinking tiredly and bringing up a hand to rub his eyes.

"Frerin," Thorin called softly, finding his voice to be incredibly dry, feeling disused.

Frerin shot up, disturbing Dis who retreated into her blanket with a mumble. "Thorin? You're awake!" Frerin's hand pressed to Thorin's forehead, looking relieved, before he readjusted his blankets up around his shoulders. "You were unconscious for three days and your fever was so bad we had to douse you in ice water! It finally broke several hours ago. You were in really bad shape, Thorin."

Thorin saw the worry lining his younger brother's face and reached up to take his hand in his. "I'm sorry I worried you, brother."

"You pushed yourself too hard going after Jaron. Once the adrenaline wore off, your body seemed to completely crumble under the strain. That's what Oin says anyway. They took all the prisoners and they are to be sent to the mines for labor."

"What of Solveig?" Thorin couldn't keep from asking a moment longer. He tried to sit up but was so weak Frerin pushed him back down.

"Don't. That wound in your side needed lots of stitches and Oin has already had to redo most of them due to your fevered thrashing." He shook his head. "Solveig is fine. She seems to be mostly recovered from her ordeal. She's been to see you, but not very often. Her father wouldn't allow it if he knew."

"Why not?" Thorin asked sharply.

Frerin hesitated. "Hroth seems to blame you for what happened."

"It is my fault, I already told him I took all the blame," Thorin said tiredly. "There's no reason to punish Solveig for it."

"I think he thinks he's trying to protect her," Frerin said. "But don't worry about it right now, Thorin, we'll figure it all out later when you're better."

"Grandfather?" Thorin asked, not wanting to think of the consequences of Hroth's anger. He could not allow himself to think of never being with Solveig.

Frerin shrugged sadly. "He's…as well as can be expected. Once he realized what happened…"

Thorin closed his eyes and nodded. He didn't want to think of what his grandfather felt after the incident. He might have been mad before, but he still knew that Thror was not in his right mind and he had seen first hand how the things he did tore him up. He feared it would only make him worse in the long run.

"You should rest," Frerin told him firmly, placing a kind hand on his shoulder. "It's still a few hours before dawn."

Thorin couldn't argue. Even though he had been sleeping for three days he still felt like he could sleep for three more. And if he couldn't see Solveig he may as well do something. He reached over and tugged Dis' sleeping form close to him and she instantly curled up against his side. Frerin laid down on her other side, and he too was soon asleep again. Thorin figured he probably hadn't slept much, worrying over him.

Thorin's eyes drooped closed, but he lay awake for a while afterward. He wondered how in Durin's name he was going to convince Hroth that he and Solveig should get married after this.

* * *

_He woke next to Oin's ministrations_ as the healer had come to see to him. The old dwarf smiled brightly as he saw the prince awake.

"I thought you'd come out of it soon, laddie; that's what I told Frerin and your princess." Thorin watched with interest as he peeled the bandages away from the wound on his side. It was longer than he had thought when he got it, but then he hadn't been thinking at that moment of much more than rescuing Solveig. The wound on his leg was also still painful, but at least the one on his head had seemed to heal. At least he didn't still have the pounding headache.

Oin patted him on the chest once he was done. "You'll heal, lad. Soon you'll be up and about again."

Frerin and Dis had left him to go see to things after they had brought Thorin breakfast, accompanied by a bunch of flowers Dis had picked for him which he told her to set on his bedside table.

He tried to read for a while, but was anxious to know what was going on, and where Solveig was. He wanted to see her more than anything and he was not going to be happy until he did.

Finally, after a few hours, Dwalin came to see him, which perked Thorin up a bit. His friend smiled at him and drug a chair over to the side of the bed to sit down in with a sigh.

"Sorry I didn't come to see you earlier. I've been seeing to things. We've had to do a whole inventory of what was in the bandits' camp so we could try and get it back to where it belongs." He rolled his eyes. "Hauling all that stuff back was the worst part of it. However, I did manage to find this. I thought you might want it." He reached into his belt pouch and took out a small wooden box and opened it to reveal the necklace Thorin had made for Solveig.

Thorin reached out to take it from him. He had totally forgotten about it, how Jaron had taken it from him. A bittersweet ache started in his chest. What if Solveig was not allowed to marry him? What if Hroth was to take her away? He had been so ready to give her this, to make her a promise, and hope that she wanted to make it with him. But now his worry wasn't that she wouldn't say yes, but that her father would forbid it.

"Thank you, Dwalin," he said quietly.

"What's wrong?" Dwalin asked, knowing Thorin too well not to see that something was troubling him.

Thorin sighed and set the box on his bedside table, before he turned to meet Dwalin's eyes. "What does King Hroth say? Do you think I even have a chance with Solveig anymore?"

Dwalin shrugged, but Thorin caught the worry in his eyes that he was trying to hide. "He is not in a good mood right now. But I think we can make him see reason. After all, you did get her back."

"For some reason I don't think he really cares about that at the moment," Thorin sighed and leaned back against his pillows.

"Hey," Dwalin said, nudging him slightly. "If you two are really in love, then you will make it work. You know that."

"I hope so."

"It will be fine," Dwalin said firmly. "Just don't give up hope." He patted Thorin's knee and stood up. "I', afraid I have to get back to work. I'll stop by later."

Thorin watched him go, feeling abandoned. He sunk back into the pillows with a sigh. He wished he could get up, at least to sit in the window seat, but though he had been able to fight Jaron with his leg, since he had gotten back and suffered the fever, the pain a wound like that normally provided had set in with a vengeance, and he knew he would never be able to get there without help. He should have had Dwalin help him before he left.

He spent most of the rest of the day alone. He wondered vaguely where his father was, and his grandfather. Thrain had shown him more kindness in the past week than he had in years and Thorin felt he wanted to take advantage of that while his father was still offering. Perhaps if he could convince his father of his good intentions, however badly they had ended up, Thrain could act as an advocate to Hroth on his and Solveig's behalf.

But there was another part of him, that knew in the end, he would have to be the one who stood up for himself and the woman he loved. Take the blame, which was correctly placed anyway, and somehow manage to convince Hroth that they should still be together. Apart from saving Solveig's life as he already had, he had not a clue as to how to go about that.

Frerin, Dwalin and Dis came to join him for supper, all of them eating in his room to keep him company. He wished Solveig could have come too, but he knew it would be the worst time for her to sneak away to see him. Still, he was getting more and more angry and anxious at not seeing her. He was beginning to fear Hroth might have taken her away already and he would never get to see her again.

He tried to sleep, but he was weary of sleeping and instead more dozed off in the darkness, uncomfortable and warm with still the small vestiges of fever clinging on, probably due to his fretting.

It was sometime late in the middle of the night, long after the mountain had fallen asleep, that his door was opened a crack and someone slipped inside. He had his eyes closed, and he thought it was likely Dis, but the steps were wrong, and there was soon a figure leaning over him, a familiar scent, the brush of soft hair against his chest and sweet lips pressed against his. For a moment he dared not open his eyes, in fear that it might still be a lingering dream, but a hand stroked his forehead and he was forced to open his eyes now.

"Solveig," he whispered and reached up to draw her closer for another kiss.

She met his lips eagerly and then slid into the bed next to him, curling up against his side. He shifted to wrap his arm around her, drawing her close and reveling in the feel of her warm body pressed against his and instantly feeling comfortable. Neither of them said anything for a long time, just reveling in being with each other again. Finally, Thorin turned his head to one side and kissed her forehead.

"I missed you," he whispered.

Her hand was resting on his chest and she began to draw patterns on his skin, sending goose bumps over his belly and arms in pleasure. "Father forbade me to see you. But I came to tend to you anyway, so Frerin could sleep. He is very angry about what happened." She said it simply, but Thorin heard the underlying tightness in her voice that told him it was indeed very serious.

"Are _you_ angry about what happened?" Thorin had to ask.

"Not with you, it was an accident. You came for me, Thorin, when I thought you were dead. You were the one who saved me."

"I would have come back from the dead to save you," Thorin told her sincerely.

There was another silence then Solveig propped herself up on an elbow to look down at him. He could barely see her in the dark, but he knew she was staring right at him. "Father wants to leave. Soon. The only reason he doesn't is because I have been leading him to believe my ordeal has effected me worse than it did. But we don't have much more time, Thorin."

"Solveig," Thorin said, reaching up to cup her face with his palm. "I love you. I love you more than anything. If you want this, if you will…if you will stay here, with me, then I will do everything in my power to make that so. But only if that is what you want."

"I would give up everything just to stay here with you, Thorin. Like this, forever," she whispered back, and he heard the catch in her voice, a tear sliding under his fingers. He shifted his hand to the back of her head and pulled her closer.

"Then we will make it happen."

He pulled her in for a long kiss, then just held her as they both fell asleep, comforted in each other's presence and the vow they had made to make sure this could happen again.

Thorin woke slightly as Solveig shifted next to him in the early morning hours and slid out of the bed, kissing him sweetly before she left. He wanted to drag her back and never let her go, but knew she couldn't be found there with him. He buried his face in the pillow beside him that still smelled like her, and knew that he would do whatever was necessary to convince Hroth that they belonged together. He would give up his right to the kingdom of Erebor for Solveig and never look back. But convincing an angry father might prove to be harder than he imagined.

* * *

_Thorin spent several more days_ kept in bed, with frequent visits from everyone when they could come between duties, and always Solveig in the middle of the night when everyone else was asleep. So far she had still convinced her father that she wasn't ready to travel, but Thorin knew that wasn't going to last long. They were together only on borrowed time and he had to rectify the situation before it was too late.

That was why the next day, he insisted Frerin help him dress after he had brought him breakfast.

"Are you sure you're ready for this, Thorin?" Frerin asked.

"It doesn't matter whether I'm ready for this, it has to be done," Thorin told him firmly as he leaned on a stick to help him walk.

"It might not end well," Frerin said quietly as he helped adjust Thorin's tunic and fastened his sword around his waist. "Hroth gets more impatient by the day. Father is trying to appease him as well he can but he has been so busy with Grandfather, he hasn't done much of a good job of it."

Thror had shut himself up in his room since the incident. Thorin had asked to see him on several occasions but his grandfather had never come and it made him sad to think about it. About everything his grandfather had been through in the last month or so and most of it because of him, even if it had never been intentional.

"It's the only thing I can do, Frerin. I can think of no other way to approach it," Thorin told his brother, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Frerin sighed and looked up at Thorin. "I know. I just don't want you to get hurt over this. I don't know how you can possibly convince him to give you Solveig's hand in marriage."

"Well, if he doesn't, then we'll just find another way, even if we have to run off."

"Please don't do anything so rash," Frerin pleaded. "That would only make everything worse."

"I know, which is why I'm making the effort," Thorin replied with a small smile and started to make his way out of the room. Frerin followed him and they would be meeting Hroth with Thrain in the council chamber.

Thorin's confidence was not bolstered when they got there and saw that Hroth was pacing as if this was an entire waste of time, and was already drinking from a decanter provided on the table. Thrain stood at the head of the table, his arms folded over his chest, looking annoyed with the dwarf king. They both turned when Thorin and Frerin entered, Thrain looking relieved and Hroth glaring dangerously at Thorin. Balin was also there as one of the kingdom's advisors and in possession of much more tact than the royal family had when it came to passionate arguments.

"Thorin," Thrain nodded to his son as Frerin helped lower him into a chair at the table. Hroth sat down with a sigh, and a scowl, pouring another cup of ale.

"Well, boy, let's get this over with," he said. "I don't have all day."

Thorin fought back his anger and cleared his throat, trying to decide the best way to start this. "My lord, I wanted to discuss the original proposition you came here with. Concerning the union of myself and Princess Solveig. I know in the light of recent events it might prove…untactful, but over the weeks that you have stayed here, I have come to have…feelings for your daughter." He swallowed hard, blushing slightly. He hated having to say all this out loud. It somehow seemed to cheapen his relationship and deep devotion to Solveig, but he had to get through this. "I wish to beg your forgiveness for what happened first and foremost, my lord, and after that, I hope you will consider my proposition of asking for your daughter's hand in marriage, to form a bond between our two kingdoms."

Hroth looked at him with a small snort, as if Thorin had lost his mind. "Listen here, boy, that's all very noble, but do you honestly think I'm going to allow my daughter to marry a man who put her into harm's way in the first place? And not only that, but ran off to a secret spot without a chaperon. Unless you have indeed sullied her honor and then I suppose I would have no other choice but to marry her off to you."

"My lord!" Thorin couldn't help but shout, anger flaring through him, but Balin reached out a hand to stop him from saying anything further.

"Hroth," Thrain said, gritting his teeth. Thorin could see he too was angry. "My son is an honorable man. What he and Solveig did was nothing more than a bit of innocent childish fun. Did we not do the same when we were courting?" Thorin looked at his father, surprised. It was hard to picture the hard dwarven prince picnicking with his mother. "While the action was foolish, Thorin has shown his devotion for Princess Solveig by leaving his sick bed to go to her rescue. And I have it on good authority by everyone who went, your daughter included, that he rescued her himself and killed the man responsible for taking them captive."

"That is beside the point; do you not see that, Thrain?" Hroth said, pounding the table with a fist. "Lessons must be taught if they are such children to run off and do something so stupid!"

"The lesson has been taught and understood, Hroth!" Thrain shouted back. "They were taken captive and held for ransom for Durin's sake! What more do you need? Shall we take them across our knees as if they were infants and give them a good thrashing? Thorin even came here and apologized to you formally, and you dismiss it like a barbarian!"

"I am not surprised you push it aside so easily, Thrain," Hroth said. "Your son was wounded, yes, but my daughter was nearly defiled by that outlaw. If it had been your daughter you might take my side on this matter."

"But she is unharmed, thanks, ultimately, to my son!" Thrain said, this time he too pounding the table with a fist.

Balin stood up. "My lords, please let us calm down and speak rationally."

Thorin listened to the debate, wishing he could join in but knowing that anything he said at that moment would likely only result in Hroth hating him even more than he already did. Balin was doing his best to keep the peace, but Thrain was fuming now as well.

"Please, my lords," Balin said again. "Some conclusion must be come to. King Hroth, both our kingdoms agreed heartily to a union between the prince and princess. It was our great hope that this would come to pass and now that is has, do you not think it should proceed? I know the circumstances are somewhat unconventional, but Prince Thorin has offered his formal apology, even if he didn't need to do so after everything he did with rescuing the Princess Solveig. I propose the option of at least allowing an engagement that can continue for as long as you deem necessary. That way there are no irreversible obligations. And might I add, that if the betrothal is not seen through as was hoped, it might cause lasting damage to the relationship between our kingdoms."

"I think we're far beyond that now," Hroth said with a snort, downing another tankard of ale. Thorin shook his head, the dwarf king was drunk and it wasn't making any of this better. Maybe he could talk him around sober, but now? Still, he might be able to try.

"King Hroth," he said humbly, trying to keep his voice low and calm. "As you know, allies are few and far between in these hard times. It is good to form bonds of trust and friendship between kingdoms. Already, we have a good standing between our two kingdoms, but it would be made stronger still with the union of Solveig and I, and I have come to know that she is a very smart and strong woman. She would make a wonderful queen, and is just the kind of wife I would want by my side when it comes my time to rule, may that day be long in the future."

Balin and Thrain, as well as Frerin were looking at him with respect. Thorin's heart was hammering, hoping his words might have some effect on the dwarf king. Hroth looked at him judgingly for a few seconds before he put his tankard down.

"You will have to give me some time to think on this," he said finally.

"My lord, with all respect, we called this meeting to make some end of the matter," Balin tried to protest with all civility.

"Well, if you don't want to wait, my answer will be to walk out now and not come back to Erebor," Hroth said. "Now if you'll excuse me. I will have my answer to you by tomorrow."

And with that he left the hall. Thrain looked like he was going to shout after him, but Balin put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "It's no use. He's as stubborn as you are, Thrain. He will not give us his answer before he is ready." He turned to Thorin with a small smile. "Do not worry, Thorin. I do feel you have swayed him. You conducted yourself like a king today. And if I may say, a more honorable one than Hroth."

"I hope so," Thorin said, and then turned to his father. "Thank you for what you said, Father. It—it means a lot that you think so highly of me."

Thrain gave him a somewhat pained expression. "You are my son, Thorin, and one to be proud of at that. Very much so. I have realized recently that I have not been an incredibly good father, and I hope to rectify that in the future."

Thorin smiled genuinely and clasped his father's hand. "You are doing a good job so far, Father."

"I hope this works out with you and Solveig. I see that she makes you happy," Thrain said sincerely. "And I know that by your side she would make a good queen."

Thorin nodded and decided it was time to go back and rest. His body was aching and he was feeling weary. He turned to Frerin who helped him stand and led him out of the room.

"Do you want to go back to your room?" Frerin asked.

Thorin thought a moment, then shook his head. "No, let's go to the library."

Frerin brought him there and settled him on a couch with a stack of books and a pillow to prop his injured leg on. Thorin settled back, just happy to be out of his room, and tried his best to read even if he was anxious for King Hroth's decision.

It wasn't long before he was joined in the library by Solveig who was carrying a basket with food in it. He smiled brightly at her as she set it down on the floor and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

"I thought I would bring you a picnic today," she told him.

"I love you," Thorin told her.

"I know that," she replied with a laugh and pushed him upright so she could sit on the couch and lean him back against her. He relaxed and ate lunch, then simply lay back in Solveig's arms, and just closed his eyes.

"Can we not just stay this way forever, and not bother about anything or anyone else?" he asked her wistfully, playing with a lock of her hair, his other hand entwined with hers and resting on his chest.

"If only," Solveig said, kissing him gently.

They had to part ways, lest they be discovered. They knew they were still walking on pins and needles until Hroth conceded to their marriage, but Thorin hoped this was the last day they would have to do that. He hoped that Hroth would see that their marriage would be good for the kingdoms and agree to it once again.

That night Solveig didn't come and see Thorin like she had been, likely being extra careful so as not to ruin anything. He slept poorly, wishing her there, but woke with a start the next morning, to a pounding on his door. He jerked upright, wincing as the wound in his side protested and saw Dwalin burst into his room.

"Thorin," he said, gasping as if he had been running.

"What is it, what happened? Is it Grandfather?" Thorin asked, his stomach clenching as he dreaded the news his friend would impart to him.

Dwalin shook his head, coming into the room. "No, Thorin. I'm sorry, but…no one knew."

"No one knew what, Dwalin, tell me!" Thorin demanded, dragging himself from the bed with a wince, the anticipation only making the situation worse.

Dwalin swallowed hard and shook his head. "It looks like Hroth left with his entourage this morning without a word to anyone. I'm sorry, Thorin, but…it looks like he's gone and taken Solveig with him."


	14. Chapter 14

**Here we go, second to last chapter of this story. There's just an epilogue that will be up tomorrow! I hope you enjoy this conclusion and again sorry for the cliff hanger from last week! Hope everyone has a good weekend :)**

Chapter Fourteen

Thorin was still in a daze as he stood in the council chamber, listening to his father rant about the dwarf king, throwing a set of tankards across the room, along with the tray that held them. Thorin was too sick to be angry. There was a deep empty space in his chest that made him need to hold his arms around himself in fear he would fall apart if he let go. How could this have happened? Everything had seemed so optimistic the day before. Of course Hroth had been his usual stubborn self, but it had looked like he might consider the marriage again. And now that wasn't the only problem they were faced with. It was the only problem that Thorin cared about at the moment, but he knew this could, and likely would, cause lasting damage to their kingdoms, and might possibly start conflict if things were not resolved.

But he didn't really care at all. The only thing he knew was that Solveig had been taken from him, and he was not at all all right with that.

Frerin moved to his side, opposite from where Dwalin was already standing, offering a supportive shoulder to his friend. Frerin was pale, and he put a hand on Thorin's shoulder and squeezed firmly, offering some little comfort, where he knew there was none to be had.

"What are we to do, Balin?" Thrain shouted at the dwarf who was trying his best to keep the prince as calm as possible. "This is an obvious insult to our kingdom. We cannot let it stand!"

"We cannot rashly run off to war with them either, my lord," Balin said in a voice that was so calm Thorin wondered how he managed it.

"Then what do you suggest? If we do nothing, then it will look like we are cowards. It will give everyone a reason to walk over us if they see we do nothing when we are insulted."

"King Hroth acted out of concern for his daughter's safety. You cannot really blame him for that. He acted wrongly, yes, but it was for good reasons. If you give him a bit of time to cool down, perhaps he will realize where he went in error."

"And if he doesn't?" Thrain asked.

"We will cross that bridge when we come to it," Balin assured him. "Until then, we will bide our time and not make any rash actions."

"I don't know what to do, Balin," Thrain said, and he sounded so old and tired, Thorin was broken out of his own misery to look up at his father. "I shouldn't be thinking of this even, I'm not the king. Father has been so sick, that I…I fear I have failed to take over my duties properly what with concern for him. It was all so sudden, I was not ready and thus found myself to be…ill equipped."

"You are doing as well as any of us, Thrain," Balin told him. "You have been put into a tough position and you are doing well with it. That's all anyone can ask."

Thrain sighed and then finally turned around to see Thorin standing against the wall. Thorin tried to meet his eyes, give his father a little strength, but he had none to offer. He felt sick and seemed to have lost all will to exist. Thrain's face softened to one of pity and concern as he saw Thorin's expression and gave a deep sigh.

"I'm sorry, Thorin," he said gently and the kindness nearly made Thorin lose what little hold he had on his emotions.

He swallowed hard and cast his eyes down, breathing deeply. He tried to think of something to say but the doors to the chamber opened and Thror came in.

"Father," Thrain said, instantly going to the king's side and resting a hand on his shoulder. "You should be in bed."

"I have been in bed long enough," Thror told him in no unfamiliar terms. "I think I know what I'm doing, and it's certainly not enough. Beric just told me that Hroth has run off! You thought it was unnecessary to inform me of this?"

"No, Father, it's just that we didn't want to worry you," Thrain said hesitantly, knowing it would be little consolation to the dwarf king.

Thror snorted. "Well, I'm here now, and quite a bit more angry than worried, so perhaps you will see fit to tell me why we have been slighted by that two bit king from the Iron Hills, and why after everything, he did not allow Thorin to marry his princess. He saved the girl's life, for Durin's sake, and in terrible condition too!"

If Thorin had been in a better mood he might have smiled at his grandfather's indignant outburst on his part. "It seems, Grandfather, that he refuses to forgive the initial action that led to everything else."

"Well, you two learned your lesson, and heaven knows going on a picnic alone with one's intended does not warrant such an insult. If anything this entire incident just shows how much you two care for each other and are willing to sacrifice. I never realized how much of an idiot Hroth was."

"Be that as it may, how does it help now?" Thrain asked his father, sounding a bit exasperated. "Hroth has already left. If he wished to repair things, don't you think he would stick around?"

"Hroth is also a well-known hot head," Thror said with disdain. "Typical dwarf, yes, but most often incapable of seeing the obvious. I will write him a letter myself and see if I can turn him around." He turned to Thorin. "Don't you worry, lad, you'll have your princess back."

Thorin didn't quite know what to say. "But…how can I just stay here and do nothing in the meantime? I don't think I can."

"Well you can go after her yourself, lad, of course, but I don't know if Hroth would be any more happy if you stole her away than he is now," Thror told him gently. "I know you don't care right now, and I know you would do it in a moment's notice, but let's try and do this the proper way first, and if that doesn't work, maybe more drastic measures will be called for."

Thorin nodded even though waiting around for diplomatic procedures was the last thing he wanted to do at that moment when his heart was aching for the fact that he might never see Solveig again. Or hold her, or kiss her; never have her as his wife. He wanted to stop thinking of that because it was only hurting him more, but he couldn't. In the midst of all that, he didn't even have enough mindset to be happy his grandfather was well again.

Dwalin slung his arm over his shoulder. "Come on, Thorin, let's go do something. I know you can't spar yet, but you and Frerin and I could play some games or something to get your mind off of it. And don't say you don't feel like it, because it's no good just sitting around moping. That will only make you feel worse."

Thorin sighed and finally nodded. "All right, I guess it probably is better."

Dwalin smiled. Not his usual grin as he was in pain for his friend, but he was trying. Frerin fell in on Thorin's other side.

"We'll do what we can, brother," he said gently.

Thorin was touched at their care, but he knew he would not feel quite right again until Solveig was back with him.

* * *

_At first, Solveig hadn't had_ a chance to think. Her maids had just roused her early in the morning, long before dawn, and told her they were leaving. She had stumbled out of bed where they dressed her quickly and ushered her out of the room with her bags already packed. She was taken all the way outside the mountain, still not quite sure what to think, and found her father waiting there on his horse.

"Father, what is going on?" she asked.

"Get on your horse, Solveig, we're going home," he said.

Solveig frowned and shoved aside the two warriors who stepped forward to help her onto her pony. "What? But Father, I thought…"

"We're not staying here another minute, Solveig, now come before I make you." Hroth was deadly serious and Solveig had no choice but to obey, even though her very body was protesting. They were leaving now? What about Thorin? What had gone wrong?

After she had gotten over her speechlessness at the shock of the situation, she had tried talking to her father about it, pleading with him to reconsider, but he had finally snapped at her and told her not to mention it again. She stopped talking, but she was angry, fuming. She wanted to say so much more but knew it would only make the entire situation worse. If she waited a while, there might be a little hope that her father would reconsider his stand and allow her to go back to Thorin.

As the sun rose, they got farther and farther away from the mountain and a hole carved itself more and more deeply into Solveig. Before when they had been captured by Jaron, she had thought Thorin was dead, that she had lost him then, but this was almost worse. It was worse, because she knew that it was possible to go back to him, but she was being deliberately kept from him. That didn't sit well with her at all. Her own pain was eating her inside, and she knew Thorin would be in a similar state and to think of him so distraught after all he had already been through of late made her angry. Angry at her father for being so stubborn that he couldn't even see that Thorin obviously cared about her like no one else did. And angry at herself that she wasn't doing more to stop it. What did that make her? A coward?

They stopped briefly to water the horses at a stream and Solveig gazed deeply into the water as she held her pony's reins and thought of those few lovely moments she and Thorin had shared on the riverbank. Despite what had come of their venture, she didn't regret a minute of it. The feel of his warm, strong body pressed to hers, and the taste of his lips put an ache of longing in her belly, and made her realize that she couldn't possibly live knowing she would never experience that again. Never have the joy of a marriage to Thorin, their wedding night, and a long life together with children of their own. She wouldn't allow that to happen.

"Time to go, Solveig," he father called briskly as he remounted his horse.

Solveig just stood there, weighing her options.

"Solveig, come," he said, more firmly.

She turned to face him, finally looking him in the eye. "No, Father," she said simply.

Hroth frowned as if he hadn't heard her correctly. "What?"

"I'm not going back to the Iron Hills," Solveig told him. "I'm going back to Erebor, and I'm going to marry Thorin."

Hroth slid off his horse and strode over to his daughter. He took her shoulders and shook her slightly, anger clear on his face. "You know I will not allow that to happen. You will not defy me, Solveig."

"I respect you, Father," she told him. "But I love Thorin. I really do, and it's not just a passing fancy. I love him more than anything. He is a good man, and will make a great king someday. And I swear, Father, that if you do not allow me to marry him, then I shall never marry at all, no matter what you do to make me."

Hroth just stared at her, anger boiling in him, but finally he released her and sighed.

"You really do love him?" he asked grudgingly.

"I do," she said.

"Then I suppose there's nothing I can do about it," Hroth replied with a heavy shrug. "But I do not approve."

"I don't need your approval to know what's right in my heart," Solveig told him. "Now I'm going back to Erebor, and if you want to come with me, then I will not mind."

To Solveig's surprise Hroth shook his head and broke out into a smile. "You are as stubborn as I am. I suppose I can expect nothing less. Fine, we shall go back to Erebor. I suppose I will have some work to do to make things all right with Thror again."

Solveig smiled back and impulsively threw her arms around him. Then she mounted up and was off down the trail before the rest of the entourage could follow.

_Thorin tried to occupy_ himself with Frerin and Dwalin, and they were doing their best, even getting Dis to sit with them, but she was wondering where Solveig had gone and Thorin couldn't stand the confused and sad look on his little sister's face, so he had to leave.

It was nearly noon and he decided to go and see how his grandfather was doing on the letter. He made his way to the private study slowly. His leg still was not healed but yet he refused to use a stick. He could get around, it just took him longer.

He found his father and grandfather sitting with Balin and writing the letter. They looked up as he came in and Thror gave him a smile that warmed Thorin's heart a little even through his pain. It was so much like the one he remembered that it did him a lot of good to see.

"There you are, lad; don't worry, we're working this out. A little more polish, and we can send it expressly with a messenger. They should be able to catch Hroth up before he gets too far."

"Do you really think this will work?" Thorin asked doubtfully. "Perhaps I should take it myself. It would show my devotion to Solveig."

"Thorin, I don't know if that's such a good idea," Thrain admonished quietly. "Hroth's main issue right now is you. You already saved his daughter's life and you saw how grateful he was after that. Seeing you again might be the end of all discussion."

"I can't just sit here and wait for Hroth to make up his mind about my own future," Thorin growled, his hands clenching into fists. "If I do nothing, then it will only prove that I cannot take action and that would be worse than anything else."

"He is right, I believe," Thror admitted. He turned to Balin. "What do you say, Balin? You're the one with a head for diplomacy."

Balin hesitated a moment. "I think Thorin might indeed be right. Hroth might be a stubborn hot head, but he's also a respecter of bravery. He might be annoyed initially, but I think it would impress him if Thorin showed up himself."

A bit of the weight lifted from Thorin's chest. He would at least be able to see Solveig again. Try one last time to prove himself worthy of her. Thrain didn't look too happy or convinced, but he finally nodded.

"Very well, I know I won't be able to stop you anyway," he said, shaking his head. "You had better be well enough for this trip though, my son, because it will prove nothing if you end up confined to your bed again."

"I'll be fine," Thorin insisted. "My problem at the moment is not something Oin can fix so easily as my leg."

A smile found its way to Thror's lips again. "At least the lad understands the art of wooing, Thrain. I remember you took a while to learn."

Thrain gave his father an indignant look. "I did well enough!"

Thorin actually did smile and sat down to help them finish the letter.

Once it was done, he made preparations to leave right away. Dwalin and Frerin came out to see him off.

"Good luck," Frerin told him and embraced him firmly.

Dwalin nodded as well and clapped him on the shoulder. Thorin checked his belt pouch to make sure the letter was there, as well as another thing he had tucked there as a final hope that this would work.

He turned to his pony, but just as he was about to mount, Dwalin called to him.

"Thorin, look!" He was pointing off down the road and Thorin turned to see dust rising, and a horse racing along the path. His heart instantly clenched in his chest, thinking that something was wrong, and something had happened to Solveig's convoy on the road. But then he recognized the pony first, and finally, the auburn hair and he just stood there staring in disbelief as the rider came closer and closer until she pulled up her mount right beside him. Thorin looked up at her, seeing the teasing smile on her lips and the sparkle in her eyes.

"Well, are you going to help me down, my Prince?"

"Solveig?" he whispered, almost not believing it.

"I believe so," she teased him and then let out a lovely laugh that had him back to himself. He reached up for her and pulled her down, swinging her around in his arms as a grin finally broke over his face. He pulled her tightly against him and without saying another word, he bent down and pressed his lips to hers. He didn't care that Dwalin and Frerin and probably more dwarves were standing around watching. He could hear more horses in the distance as the rest of Hroth's convoy approached, and finally pulled back so he could ask the important questions he had.

"How?" was all he got out.

"I convinced my father that if he didn't let me marry you, I would never forgive him. He believed me," Solveig told him with a smile. "I think he finally saw that we were made for each other and that nothing was going to change that."

Thorin smiled, reaching up to brush her hair back from her face. "So it's all right then? Everything is good?"

"Well, that's up to you, if you want me," she said coyly, looking up at him behind her lashes and sending tingles through his stomach.

He reached into his belt pouch and pushed the letter to one side, taking up, instead, a small wooden box. He then proceeded to kneel, looking up at her, and opened it.

"Solveig, accept this as a gift of betrothal. If you'll have me."

She gasped as she saw the mithriel and sapphire necklace. "Thorin, it's beautiful. And of course I'll have you. Why else would I have ridden back here in such a hurry?"

He stood up with a grin and gently brushed her hair to one side so he could fasten the necklace around her throat. He kissed the back of her neck before he straightened and pulled her back around to kiss full on the mouth again. There was cheering from the sidelines and they both pulled back, remembering that they had an audience, and blushed slightly.

"We'll continue this later," Thorin whispered to her and she giggled. He saw that his father and Thror had come out to see the spectacle and Hroth was riding up as well. He stared down at his daughter and Thorin who were standing holding hands. He scowled slightly, but Thorin saw that it was not nearly as hostile as before and was mostly just a façade.

"So, you wish to take my daughter in marriage?"

"Yes, your majesty," Thorin replied with a slight bow of his head.

"I just hope you can handle her," Hroth told him and dismounted, clapping him on the shoulder and stroking Solveig's cheek with a fond smile. "I am happy for you, daughter. I think, despite his shortcomings, he is a good match for you." It was grudging, but Thorin saw the approval in the dwarf king's eyes and that was enough for him.

"Well then," Thror said coming up to congratulate them as well. "I guess that means we have lots of planning to do!"


	15. Chapter 15

**Well folks, this is the final part of the story! Thank you so much for all your support and to everyone who took the time to read this and favorite and leave reviews. That means a lot to me to know that people actually enjoy my stories :)I really enjoyed writing this story a lot and I'm glad I could share it with people who enjoyed reading it too! (Fun Fact, I think this is officially the longest fanfic I have ever written!)**

Epilogue

Thorin spent the rest of the day with Solveig, talking over preparations for their wedding. Sometimes they even managed to slip a chaperone and resume what they had started earlier and hadn't gotten to finish to their satisfaction.

Dis had been happy to see Solveig and had stayed by her side for most of the day. Thorin loved to watch them together, knowing that Solveig would act as an older sister and possibly even a mother to her. Something Dis had never had. That made Thorin love her all the more if that could even be possible.

That night they parted reluctantly, but it was late, and Thorin still wasn't willing to push King Hroth any further than he already had.

"I'll see you in the morning," he told Solveig with a sigh and kissed her deeply before he released her.

"Sleep well, Thorin," she whispered and pulled her arms from around his neck, kissing him once more on the cheek before she left him. Thorin watched her go and finally decided that he would go to the library before he went off to bed. It was late, but he didn't think he could sleep quite yet. He had a lot of things to process from that day and though he was feeling better than he had for days, both physically and mentally, he knew sleep was not going to come easy. Besides, he decided that a little time alone to clear his mind was a good thing. Being with Solveig too much, even though it was a joy, did tend to muddle his head, though in the most wonderful way possible.

He settled down with a thick book on the couch and started reading, just enjoying the warmth and the crackle of the fire in the heath.

It wasn't long before the door to the library opened and he turned around to see his grandfather standing there, looking a little hesitant as he made his way over to Thorin. Thorin closed his book and set it aside as he stood up.

"Grandfather, do you need something?" he asked, a sudden uneasiness sweeping through him as he wondered whether Thror had lost his way in a bout of gold sickness.

But Thror smiled a bit at him which put the dwarf prince at ease. "I was just looking for you, Thorin. I was wondering if…if we could have a talk."

"Of course, Grandfather," Thorin motioned for him to sit on the couch and then sat down next to him, turning slightly to face him. Thror stared into the fire, his hands clenched in his lap as he twisted one of the rings on his fingers. Thorin noticed the nervous movements and frowned. "Is something wrong?"

Thror sighed and finally turned around to Thorin, shaking his head slightly. "Thorin…I…I wish I could just say that I owe you an apology, but that," he laughed without humor, bringing his hands up to rub over his face. "That doesn't even cover it. I know that, and there is nothing I can say to you that would even begin to repair the damage I caused to you and Frerin and Solveig and everyone else."

"Grandfather, please," Thorin tried to protest. "It wasn't your fault. None of it. You know that."

"You know that's not true, Thorin," Thror told him quietly, and the sadness on his face made Thorin's heart ache.

"Grandfather," Thorin started but the older dwarf stopped him.

"No, Thorin, don't," he said. "Everything, all of it, is my fault. I…I'm not strong enough. I thought I was, but it turns out I'm not. I know that gold will be my downfall. I know it, I dream of it, it may as well be foretold. I have come to terms with the fact that I will probably not be fit to be king for too much longer."

"But you've gotten much better," Thorin insisted, sounding like a child. "You have improved greatly in the last week."

Thror shook his head with a sad smile. "It's because I'm fighting it with everything I have, Thorn. But it's eating me up from the inside out and I don't know how much longer I can resist it. I'm telling you this because I know what happens when I let it go, and I will never forgive myself for what I did to you when my mind was not my own. I can't…" A tear slid down Thror's face. "I can't let it happen. I want you to know, Thorin that I would give the Arkenstone and all my gold for your sake. Don't forget it, even when things get bad."

"They won't get bad, Grandfather," Thorin told him firmly. "I will be there to help you through it. I'm not going to let it take you."

Thror smiled at him and reached out to rest a hand on his cheek. "You, Thorin, are strong. You will make a fine king one day, and I don't think the gold sickness will ever touch you. And if it does, and may that day never come, I know that you would have the strength to fight it where I do not."

"Don't give up, Grandfather. I won't let you. Please," Thorin said quietly.

"Oh, I'm not giving up that easily, lad," Thror chuckled. "I just thought it right to warn you of what is most likely to come. I hope you will look after your father. He is a good man and will make a good king, but I fear my condition, should it worsen, will take a great toll on him."

"I will look after him," Thorin said with a nod. "I promise."

Thror smiled. "But now then, no more of this. There shall be a wedding within a few weeks! That princess of yours is going to make a fine queen. You chose well, Thorin."

Thorin couldn't help a teasing smile. "I think you chose her, Grandfather."

Thror laughed, slapping him on the shoulder. "Well you didn't have to say yes, and you did, rather adamantly too, I might add."

"I love her," Thorin said simply, a pleased flush on his cheeks.

"She is good for you. The kind of woman who will be there for you through it all. Like your mother."

Thorin felt a wetness in his eyes at the mention of his mother, but was glad his grandfather approved of his bride to be.

"But really, Thorin, about what we discussed before," Thror said, reaching over to clasp a hand around Thorin's wrist. "I don't ever want to hurt you again. And I will do everything in my power not to. And I am so, so sorry that it ever had to happen at all. You have no idea how sorry I am."

"I have some," Thorin told him simply. "I don't want you to suffer for it either, Grandfather. And I do believe you can fight it. If I can win King Hroth around, then by Durin's beard, I think you can beat this madness."

"My madness verses that of a different kind," Thror said with a twinkle in his eye. "I am very proud of you, Thorin. Don't ever think differently."

"I hope I can continue to make you proud of me, Grandfather," Thorin said softly and then impulsively leaned forward and wrapped his Grandfather in a strong embrace, resting against his chest like he had when he was a dwarfling. Thror pulled him close and they held each other tightly for a few moments before they let go. Thror took him by the shoulders and held him at arms' length, smiling.

"You should go off to bed now, my lad. There are too many preparations to name for your coming wedding. I don't know if we'll have time for them all before the ceremony!"

Thorin laughed and stood, his grandfather offering him a steadying hand as he winced, his leg still sore. "That is probably true. Shall I walk you to your room, Grandfather?"

They set off in companionable silence and Thorin bade his grandfather goodnight before crossing to his own room. He undressed and climbed into bed with a deep contented sigh. It was true, there were still problems to be sorted out, but when were there not? He knew his grandfather wasn't cured by any means, and also was certain that his sickness would only get worse as Thror feared, but he also knew that he was going to be there by his grandfather's side through all of it. And at _his_ side, he would have Solveig.

He closed his eyes with hope for the future that night, and slept well as he thought of what that future would bring.

The End

* * *

**Thanks again for reading! Keep a look out for more one-shots that should be coming soon. If you want to read another Thorin romance though go check out AnastaziaDanielle****'s**** Fic "Gem of His Heart" It's a very sweet story :) Until next time!**


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